


The Calling

by Bunnyhops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:11:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7201961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnyhops/pseuds/Bunnyhops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spell born from desperation is performed and instead of receiving seven mates, they receive one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing. Prologue_ **

Eight years after the war, Wizarding London was still trying to rebuild itself. Not only were wizards and witches restoring the remnants of their lives and physically rebuilding the structures that were harmed during various battles, the magical population was dwindling; the female populace in particular.

The twenty-year war, ending in a Battle at Hogwarts, had severely depleted the witch public. It was discovered, after the demise of Voldemort, that he had cast a spell over the witches, using the magical ley lines in Europe. No one believed him to be that powerful at first, but quickly realized their underestimation had cost them greatly.

Many witches died at the hands of this wizard, but this spell had further limited the number of feminine life expectancies as well as brutally hampered the female deliveries. The ratio, years later, stood at 100 witches to every 1000 wizards and it didn't seem to be getting better.

Initially, when the statistics began to show a significant dwindling of witches, the Ministry had consulted world-renowned Artithmancy experts as well as proven Seers. It was to the surprise of the Ministry officials that both party's predictions were very similar. Each had 'seen' the near-extinction of magical humans in Europe within three to four generations. Since Europe held the largest population of magical beings in the world, the ripple effect was significant.

The Ministry had enacted incentive-based baby proclamations in an attempt to boost birth rates and increase the witch population, but nothing seemed to work.

Potioneers and Healers worked together to narrow down the precise time when fetus' changed from girl to boy. They had, so far, been unsuccessful and the majority of births were still male.

The panic that spread resulted in families writing betrothal contracts immediately upon the birth of a witch to secure the continuation of family lines, which drastically diminished the chances of adult wizards in finding a mate. It also led the Ministry to instate an Incest Prevention Clause. Pureblood families had to prove that that the children to be betrothed were no closer than second cousins in blood relation.


	2. The Spell

"Are you ready?" Lucius asked the faces staring back at him. This was the last and most important part of the ritual and the sixth hour in which they'd been at it. It had been a very exhaustive and emotionally taxing day for them. The spell required complete concentration and a focus on exactly what they wanted. There was no room for loose interpretations.

They nodded and started to chant.

The magic swirled around the men, making the air dense and the climate warm. Beads of sweat formed on their temples, over the tops of their lips, in the middle of their backs and across their shoulders. Their muscles were tense and the force of the spell was straining their magic at a brisk rate.

On the third verse, they paused and looked to Lucius for guidance.

Pulling a platinum blond hair from his head, Lucius dropped it into the cauldron. He then took a blade, silver and etched with runes, and sliced his forearm, bleeding into the brew. "With my body, I call to you."

The potion bubbled and popped, expelling smoke and sending steam hissing from the top. He pulled a small torn parchment from his robes and smeared the corners with his blood. Written on it was what he wanted in a companion; in a witch. His whispered spell set the parchment on fire. Waving the burning paper in the steam from the brewing potion, it burst into a purple light, disappearing.

Each wizard, in turn, pulled a hair from their head and drew blood with the athame; each repeating the phrase and the process with their parchments.

When it was done, they chanted as one. "I call you to me in sickness and in health until death                               do part us. I call you to me for richer or for poorer until death do part us. I ask the fates to send me my mate; a mate born from magic and who balances my weaknesses with her strengths."

It was ancient magic, born from desperation. Lucius had searched for the spell far and wide. The journey had taken eighteen months, leading him to foreign countries and back again. In the end, he'd found the book he was looking for in a Romanian village, buried with a witch who had died twelve centuries prior.

A week ago, Lucius had called this group together and told them of his find. They'd eagerly agreed and tonight gathered again to perform the ritual.

The air was still heavy and the tension emitted from the wizards was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Lucius ladled the potion into seven gold goblets, also marked with runes. He handed one to each wizard. Together, they drank the muddy colored substance, each making a face at the smell and then again at the taste. Lucius wanted to gag, but swallowed it down, every drop.

Nothing happened at first.

Just when one of the wizards opened his mouth to speak, they heard a pop, along with a blinding white light. They closed their eyes to keep from seeing spots and then felt the impact of the spell. Pain seared through their bodies at a rapid pace, rendering them helpless to its torment. It felt as though their magic was being ripped from their essence, leaving the tattered remains of half a soul. It left them panting and sweating and doubled over with a powerful ache pulsing through their muscles.

When the pain subsided, the smoke cleared, and the light faded, ragged moaning could be heard from the floor near the couch.

Lucius opened his eyes in time to see seven bright stars circle in the air and unite as one then plunge into a small being curled and lying on the floor.

The being let out a blood curdling scream with pain as the pieces of souls forced their way into the helpless recipient, forging a new home for eternity, and fusing with her own.

Lucius widened his eyes, this wasn't supposed to happen. There was supposed to be seven, not one. The thought was fleeting as a moment later, her head was thrown back, and pieces of her soul shot through her parted lips, and raced into their hearts with the force of an aggressively thrown Quaffle.

***!***

Hermione sat behind her desk at St. Mungos and looked over her paperwork. She was bored.

She would turn twenty-seven soon and Kingsley had just owled her, yet again, urging her to marry and start having babies. Pursing her lips, she conjured a steel bowl, set the parchment inside, and whispered, " _Incandesco_." Hermione watched it burn for a few seconds before extinguishing the flame and vanishing the bowl. She adored the man, but boy he could be a nag!

She understood his motivation for doing this, and even sympathized with the wizarding world's plight for increasing the numbers, but she refused to be a brood mare. To ease her guilty conscience, Hermione worked with Healers in her off time to find a cure for this epidemic, but they hadn't made anything resembling progress as of yet.

Hermione herself hadn't found any wizard with whom she connected enough to have children. It was selfish, she knew, but she couldn't make herself. She'd read too many tales of love and devotion to let herself be contracted to a wizard for the purposes of repopulating the wizarding world. She knew that no wizard would come and save her from the evil queen, but she did want love, compatibility and someone who would care for her.

She'd entertained the idea of… No, they were friends; purely platonic.

Shrugging, she straightened a stack of parchment. She had plenty of time to settle down and have children. Witches could safely reproduce well into their seventies. She, of course, had already been evaluated by a Healer to ensure that she had not been infected with the Spell Voldemort had used. Hermione's bits were baby ready.

Hermione looked out the window. Then back at the pile of paperwork on her desk. She was feeling unmotivated today. Her gaze shifted back to the window. It was dreary and cold and she wondered if she shouldn't just go home, take a bath, and curl up with a good book. She'd been feeling morose and a bit under the weather for much of the day, but during the last hour, it seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. She had a sense of urgency, but had nowhere to go, no plans she'd made; just felt a push to leave.

As if her thoughts provoked the fates, she began to perspire. She felt queasy and faint. The on-set of dizziness made her put her head on her desk and breathe deeply. Before she knew it, she felt the familiar squeeze of Apparition.

***!***

Lucius half walked half stumbled over to the small form and knelt down. He swallowed hard when he recognized the unmistakable mass of wavy hair. Hermione Granger. _How could this be?_ he wondered. He could sense what felt like a ward of magic surrounding her person. Her body had an ethereal glow; an aura about her and her hair was standing on end with sparks running through it. It reminded him of a Muggle production he once saw with Draco.

They'd been in Muggle London 'accepting Muggles' and had entered a movie gallery. They ended up watching some movie about a romance between a man and a woman who looked like a person, but was really a robot. After a major battle scene – which brought too many memories to the forefront of Lucius' mind – the robot woman was left broken and dirty with sparks flying about her while the man told her he loved her, but not enough to stay. Lucius thought it was ridiculous. Draco had returned twice to see it again.

***!***

Trying to open her eyes, Hermione felt like she'd been beaten with a Bludger. Her entire body was screaming at her not to move and her stomach was turning over like she'd just been riding a dragon. Her head was pounding and she couldn't see straight.

Moaning, she tried to stand, but found that it took too much energy on her part at the moment.

She thought she heard hissing, but couldn't be sure. Her ears were ringing.

The others now surrounded her, all watching with astonishment. Lucius cleared his throat. "Miss Granger?"

Hermione recognized the voice. She'd heard him speak at least once a week at the board meetings. "Mr. Malfoy?" she croaked. She blinked trying to clear her blurred vision and was surprised to find her lashes wet from tears.

She felt large warm hands pull at her shoulders. She tried to aid the effort and pushed herself up to a half sitting position. The movement proved to be too much and her stomach revolted. "Mr. Malfoy, your loo?" she asked right before she slapped a hand over her mouth and made to rise, but couldn't seem to move of her own accord.

She felt strong arms pick her up, swing her upwards, and bounce her out of the room. Neither the swinging motion nor the bouncing was helping.

The last thing Lucius thought as he watched the wizard carry her out was that he hoped she didn't vomit on his newly purchased Persian rugs. They cost him a fortune. They were a perk from his travels when searching for the book containing the spell.

She landed near a toilet and heard the door shut behind her. She took that opportunity to promptly empty the contents of her stomach. Sinking down, resting her head on the seat and not worrying about what other body parts had occupied the space, she sighed.

The porcelain was cool to the touch and welcomed.

Eyes closed, she wondered _, what in the world am I doing here?_ She went over the day's events, checking for black outs; anything out of the ordinary. Noting chronological milestones during the day, but nothing stood out.

She was healthy as a horse.

Her breath hitched. In her addled brain, she became a bit emotional. A sense of depression overcame her and after shaking her head and once again ridding herself of the remainder of her lunch, she plopped back down and let her mind flow freely with thoughts.

Recently… well, if she were honest, in the last couple of years, Hermione had found herself not only lusting after the elder Malfoy, who was a St. Mungo's stakeholder and contributor, but after the young Malfoy and all his friends when she saw them. She would sit at lunch by herself in the park and watch the passersby; mostly the younger Slytherins, with who she attended Hogwarts. She would fantasize about one of them having secret feelings for her. She knew Pucey was gay, but wasn't sure about the others. She didn't think Draco was, nor Marcus.

They all said hello to her every time they saw her.

She worked with Theo and Blaise; they were fellow Healers and they donated time towards ' _The Baby Chronicles'_ as it was referred to in the Prophet, along-side her and some other intellectually advanced magical beings.

Draco worked at the Ministry in Sports and Games with Marcus as an inspector for new products. She'd seen them both often enough after tests with new products had gone awry. They were all on a first name basis now, but still she watched them wink and smile at witches. She watched the witches flutter around like pretty butterflies at their attention. She wanted to be a pretty butterfly. Even in this dire time of depleting witches, she knew she was no butterfly.

She rolled her eyes at herself and sniffled. After everything she'd done, all the people she'd helped; here she sat, on the marbled floors of Lucius Malfoy's loo, with her cheek on his toilet seat.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

He stood outside the loo, waiting for her to finish up. He couldn't believe that the spell had worked, but he had expected more than one witch. He wondered when the others would arrive.

He looked at the door and wondered for who she was meant.

Smiling, he hoped it was him. He liked her. She was funny and pretty and smart, not to mention that she had a hot little body under those baggy Healer's robes she wore. He'd seen her once, leaving her office with running shorts and a tight-fitting tank top. He'd practically tripped over his own feet as she passed him by, smiling and wiggling her fingers in a hello.

"Hey," another wizard greeted, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Hey."

"She alright?" he asked, jutting his chin towards the door.

Blaise shrugged. "Don't know. Just thought I'd give her some time, you know?"

Draco chuckled. "My father was afraid she wasn't going to make it."

Blaise snorted in response. He could imagine; Lucius paid a fortune for those rugs.

They both heard it at the same time; the quiet sniffles and the soft mewling. She was crying.

Draco frowned and stepped forward. He tapped on the door. "Granger?"

The sound of mewling stopped abruptly, but her sniffling continued. They could hear shuffling and water. "I'm coming out," she said with a shaky voice.

She opened the door and stopped short. "Draco? Blaise?" * _sniffle_ * "I- I- I'm so sorry, I don't know why I'm here, but-"

"Granger," Draco interrupted with a soft smile.

She raised her red nose and widened her teary eyes to listen to his sage advice. "Don't babble."

It made her giggle and she nodded, leaning against the door frame. She was having trouble standing on her own.

"We can answer your questions, but you must come back to the drawing room… and don't vomit on Lucius' Persian rugs," Blaise added.

Hermione immediately looked down to the rugs in question and ah'd at their beauty. Already feeling fatigued and just …strange, she plopped down to touch the vivid colors. "Oh, this is so pretty and feels divine," she coo'd.

Silence fell heavy and she looked up from her position to the tall men standing over her, watching her with varying degrees of curiosity. A sheepish expression crossed her features. "I'm a very tactile person."

"I see," Blaise said, bending down to pull her up. "You alright to walk?" he asked. His large hands were pulling her in an upward motion, making her shoulders shrug, but doing nothing in the way of getting her to a standing position.

"Yes," she answered, making Draco laugh.

"Right. How are you feeling?" Draco asked still smiling.

Her head dropped back and her eyes narrowed. "I'm all …wobbly, like I was hit with a Jelly Legs Jinx. And I feel a little woozy, like I was hit with a Confundus. And a little warm like I cast a-"

"Warming Charm," Blaise and Draco flat-lined in unison.

She perked up. "Right! How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess. Now, let's get you back," Blaise said, once again, picking her up and carrying her back to the room.

She was letting her head hang, her hair swing, and her arm dangle; he was basically carrying dead weight. Not that he minded, the witch barely weighed seven stones soaking wet, but it put him off balance that she was so trusting. In this case, she trusted him not to drop her.

The boys walked in to the dimmed room and Blaise set her on the couch, where she flopped over.

Draco and Blaise stood there, watching her with amusement. Lucius came to stand to the side. A voice from the back of the couch spoke, "She's glowing," he pointed out.

Another voice from the fireplace asked, "What's wrong with her do you think? Are there more witches? Why was she the first? Whose is she?" They all turned to look at the young man who asked far too many questions at one time.

Lucius tried his best to answer patiently. They were all eager to find their mate, but he suspected that the answer he was about to offer would come as a mild disappointment and may be the cause of an argument; Miss Granger was highly sought after, not only for her intelligence, but for her beauty, kindness, loyalty… the list went on and on, the last one being that she was an eligible witch in her child bearing years.

He cleared his throat and looked back at his long-time friend; a friend who he'd nearly begged to participate. The brooding man never understood what was good for him, declaring he didn't need a mate. Lucius knew better of course and persisted until the snarky potions professor conceded. "I believe Miss Granger is the only witch who will be satisfying our request. Our souls are now mingled with hers. It seems the fates have a rather interesting sense of humor, pairing her with seven wizards, leaving us to share one witch."

Theo snorted. "Not just any witch, ' _The_ Muggle-born Witch'. She has more titles than Severus."

Severus rolled his eyes at that statement and inhaled. He looked at the small witch and silently groaned. This would be interesting. She'd saved him when he hadn't wanted to be saved. He spent the better part of the next year healing and hating her. He no longer hated her; she'd saved him again by convincing St. Mungo's that they should contract with him as an independent potioneer. She'd done this by accepting all responsibility should he brew a potion that wreaked havoc instead of promote healing.

Marcus was taking it all in; like Lucius, he'd seen their souls merge and then enter the small woman. He didn't know how he felt about it all. He'd participated because with the way things were, he'd had no chance of finding a wife and continuing the Flint name. With the realization that his line would die with him, he'd taken an active interest in looking for a witch with who he was compatible.

He had not been successful. The eligible witches were simpering and spoiled, looking first at a wizards vault then at how he could improve her social status. They were all looking for a trophy wizard, who would fall all over himself catering to the witch's every desire. Marcus didn't want that. He was no one's trophy.

They all smirked when they heard her mumble in response to Theo's last comment. "Princess of Gryffindor, best friend to Harry fucking Potter." They laughed at her language and both Lucius and Severus were torn on whether to chuckle or remind her that ladies don't use foul language. Lucius went with chuckling, Severus went with scowling.

She went on, "One third of the Golden Trio." She found the strength to sit up, but couldn't bring herself to straighten her head. Crookedly looking at them with dilated eyes, she chirped, "Who came up with these names? They're stupid! Honestly! _Princess of Gryffindor_? UGH!"

She was about to speak again when she pressed her hands to her temple and groaned. "What is going on? I feel drunk, confused… and hot… and tingly… Why do I feel tingly?" she asked, looking up at Lucius. "What am I doing here?" Her voice was serious and her face was fearful, but determined. She thought of something then, something someone had said. "Who does who belong to?"

Marcus cleared his throat when no one answered right away. "We called you," he said.

Her head turned slowly to the large wizard standing in the shadows. "Marcus?" He nodded curtly and she smiled at him; it was goofy and lopsided and it made him huff with humor.

"Hermione, focus," Draco ordered trying not to let his feeling that he found her absolutely adorable show through.

She shook her head to clear it. "Right. You called me? I'll need more details," she said, fanning herself.

Lucius sat down and crossed his legs. "Miss Granger, if you're warm why don't you remove your outer robes? Surely, your attire under them is presentable."

After a moment of deciding that what he said was reasonable, she unbuttoned her robes and with a little help, set them aside. She'd had to stand because she couldn't seem to figure out, in her state of mind, how to lift up and slide her robes from under her. With a coordinated effort between a smirking Marcus and chuckling Draco, she was able to sluff them off.

She then fell back onto the couch feeling much cooler in well-fit tan slacks, and a snug white blouse.

She sighed. "So, more details," she said, looking intensely at Draco and Blaise, though her eyes resembled ink blots they were so dilated.

The silence was deafening, making Theo shift his feet and answer. "I-we… mate… no witches… no chance- I-we didn't want-"

"Theo!" four wizards fairly shouted.

"For a Slytherin, Mr. Nott, you are sorely in need of specialized training," Severus commented dryly, bringing her attention to him. "Professor?" She smiled at him. "Are you alright?" she asked him.

He quirked a brow and shook his head. Only she would ask if he were alright when she clearly was not. "Better than you," he replied.

Hermione giggled at his response. She stretched, bringing her blouse above the waist back of her slacks, and scratched her thigh. "So you wanted a woman and decided casting a spell was the way to get her!" She summarized while giggling hysterically.

Her eyes spotted another familiar face and she stopped laughing. "Oh!" she said throwing her hands in the air like a child would when wanting its mother to pick them up.

The handsome and smiling redhead stepped forward, picked her up and swung her around. "Charlie! How are you?" she gushed, holding onto him tightly. "Honey pot," he greeted quietly.

It was his nick name for her. She'd always thought he was being mean; until her sixth year, he'd come home and saw her. In the kitchen at the Burrow with everyone present for breakfast, Charlie had called her Honey Pot once more in greeting. It made her blush and smile at him. It made him take a deep calming breath and sit down lest his brothers notice the effect she'd had on him.

Lucius was now worried for her mental faculties. He started to deduce that if the Dark Lord went mad with splitting his soul, the reverse could happen as well; too many souls could deteriorate her mind, in addition to hers splitting seven times. He looked back at Severus. The darker man had similar thoughts and nodded in acknowledgement.

As if reading their minds, she pulled back from her long-time friend and pierced them with an intense stare. "I'm not mad, Mr. Malfoy! That wasn't a very nice thing to say!" she scolded.

They all looked at her. "I didn't say anything… Hermione," he said, testing out her first name. "I _thought_ it."

The words hung in the air like an anvil. Blaise's eyes widened. He focused on her and thought, 'I want to run my fingers through your hair.'

Her eyes shifted to his. She frowned and began playing with the curled ends of her hair. He let out the breath he was holding and smiled. "You can hear our thoughts," he declared.

Draco looked stricken. "All of them?"

"Hermione, listen," Theo said. He looked at her, but sent a focused thought to Draco. 'Blond haired git.'

She shook her head a moment later. "I didn't hear anything. Can you hear my thoughts?" she asked.

Hermione focused on Lucius' shiny shoes and thought that Marcus looked nice in the tailored shirt he wore.

Marcus smiled broadly, but after a moment, Lucius answered. "No. I didn't hear anything."

Severus noticed the exchange. "The person you're focused on can hear you, but not the general populace of your-" He was going to say husbands, but wasn't ready to share that with her yet. They hadn't told her the extent at which they went to call their mates, and he wasn't particularly eager to do so. She had a temper. He was certain once they told her that her soul was split and fused with theirs, effectively binding them for eternity, she would kill one or all of them.

Pulling Charlie down with her, she used his lap as a pillow and closed her eyes. "I'm just going to rest here for a moment, okay?"

She was out cold, breathing evenly a second later. Charlie noticed that her body was warmer than a normal person's and looked up to make sure they knew. "She's hot."

Theo smirked. "Yes, she is."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I meant her body temperature, git."

"So, what do we do?" Blaise asked.

"I'm guessing there's no counter ritual?" Marcus asked.

Lucius and Severus glared at him. "You knew the risks coming in, Flint," Severus snapped.

Marcus shrugged. "Risk to ourselves; not to the witches and not calling one witch, Snape!"

"Speaking of, she doesn't normally act this way. She's acting drunk and I've never seen her drink anything stronger than butter beer," Draco said, his voice concerned.

Lucius nodded. "It's an effect from the spell. She's now carrying half of each of our souls, as well as hers splitting seven times. Until her magic settles, if her magic settles, I suspect we'll see the result with her acting strangely."

"What if she turns into Voldemort jr.?" Charlie asked quietly.

Severus shook his head. "His soul split with violence and there was no other soul there to mend it when it split. Hermione's merged with ours, making her soul complete. I suspect we'll see character traits from each of us in her at times."

Draco groaned. He didn't look forward to bedding the female version of his snarky godfather.

"Could she die?" Theo asked.

The room was silent.

"What's the second worst thing?" Marcus asked, thinking dying was pretty awful, but he was wondering about her 'drunken' state. What if she stayed that way? He thought.

"If she were a lesser witch, not as powerful, I would worry about her mental faculties. She'll recover. She just needs some time and our patience." Severus said in an unusual show of support for his former student.

Lucius quirked an eyebrow. It seemed that they were all feeling it; the pull. It was more than a physical desire to bed her, it was an emotional tug. It was a need to connect with her; to be around her; to seek her approval and make her happy.

Theo, the non-Slytherin Slytherin, said, "Is it strange that I think I love her?" His voice was curious and surprised.

Instead of the laughter he was expecting, he saw Marcus, Blaise, Draco, and Charlie nodding. Severus and Lucius didn't give any of their thoughts away.

 

 


	4. Work it Out

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

Blaise was looking at Severus and decided that in the spirit of full disclosure and honesty with what was now, essentially, a marriage, he would ask, "Why did you participate? You practically scoffed at us when we agreed, calling us idiots, and telling us that we were asking for trouble."

Severus didn't have an answer. At first, he'd thought it was stupid, but after speaking with Lucius, he'd decided that if he didn't take this opportunity at a little happiness in his life, he would die alone; and as much as he'd wished for death earlier in his life, he didn't wish for it now.

"A knee jerk reaction, Mr. Zabini, but I don't care to discuss my reasoning for participating at this time. Perhaps another," he answered. Lucius nodded his approval and Severus exhaled with relief. He was not always the most eloquent of speakers and relied on Lucius much of the time when talking their way out of death was necessary.

Severus, generally, was a man of action or quiet contemplation. Teaching was a means to an end. He didn't enjoy it and he, for the most part, disliked other people's children. Draco, Hermione, and strangely enough, Neville Longbottom were the only students he didn't have fantasies about stringing them up and leaving them in the dungeons. Former students as adults were fine, case in point; he was now amiable with the gentlemen present.

Hermione moaned and drew their attentions once again. Charlie swept her hair away from her face. He couldn't take his eyes from her pretty face; so innocent and sweet.

Theo dropped his face into his hands, and rubbed his fingers down his face. "What do we do now – if what you say is true?" He was looking at Lucius and Severus.

"We accept her as our wife and pray she doesn't kill us when she returns to a lucid state," Severus said as his eyes drifted back to the small figure on the couch.

Blaise took that moment to share his rather accurate observations. "In normal circumstances, I'm a rather …possessive wizard as are Flint and Malfoy. Yet, I don't feel any sort of jealous emotions watching Weasley paw at her."

Charlie scowled. "I'm hardly pawing her, Zabini."

"How close are you two, exactly?" Draco asked.

Charlie smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Severus inhaled. "Gentlemen, this is neither the time nor the place for a pissing contest. She's our wife." He emphasized 'our' and gave them a piercing glare that effectively silenced them.

"Wife?" Hermione's voice was weak and slightly slurred as she spoke quietly from the couch. She blinked a few times and squinted at the wizards present. "Who got married?"

Theo huffed with ironic humor. "You," he answered quietly. It was not quietly enough as she cleared her throat. "Pardon?" she asked slowly sitting up. Her head was spinning.

"Miss Granger, the state of affairs that the wizarding world finds itself –" He was interrupted by her knowing nod.

"Kingsley keeps sending me owls to get married and procreate as if I alone can repopulate the wizarding communities."

"No worries there anymore," Theo said, again in a not so quiet voice.

"Theo!" six voices yelled.

Draco couldn't stand it anymore. "Our souls split and merged. We are bonded for eternity and you are essentially our wife."

It sounded like everyone was talking at the same time, quite loudly and she couldn't think. It was making her nauseous. Hermione blinked at him a few times and promptly fainted. It struck Marcus and Severus funny for some reason and they chuckled in response.

"Why is this funny?" Charlie asked righting her head, which had turned in an odd angle.

"She's been fighting a war since the age of eleven, has been put down, chased, and tortured; not to mention seen atrocities that no one should see especially at such a young age and what makes her faint is the idea of being married," Severus said through what was assumed an expression of humor.

"Should we wake her?" Blaise asked, sitting next to her on the couch, blocking Charlie's view.

"We need to talk about this," Theo said rising to stand. "But first, I need a drink."

They all nodded and Lucius, even though the butler's pantry was ten steps away, called his house-elf. "Gallagher."

"Yes, Master Malfoy."

"Brandy for everyone."

Gallagher glanced at the figure on the couch and dropped his large ears. He knew these men had performed a particularly strong ritual of Calling, all the house-elves could feel it.

This witch was stronger than most, he could see it. Her magic radiated off of her in waves. "Gallagher, today," Lucius huffed with impatience.

Severus thought it odd that Hermione had captured the normally dutiful house-elf's attention. "Gallagher, what do you see?" Severus asked.

The elf looked at each pair of eyes watching him and straightened his ears. "Hers magic, Master Snape. Very strongs, sirs."

"You can see it?" Marcus asked.

The elf nodded. "Can you see ours?" Draco asked.

Gallagher shook his head. "No."

Severus needed particulars. "Gallagher, do you know why she's here?"

Gallagher narrowed his eyes and looked to Lucius for permission to speak freely. Lucius nodded immediately and the elf spoke. "Yous made a deal with the fates. Yous performing ancient magics – magics of the Fey. Yous calling the Miss." Gallagher's voice was deeper than usual and foreboding.

Theo was annoyed at the elf's cryptic warning. "Yes, yes, she's ours now, but-"

The elf whipped around and stepped forward with purpose. "No! _Yous_ are _hers._ ** _Yous_** _are bound to her!”_

Severus was not liking the way this sounded; not in the least.

To get back on point, though the elf's seriousness unnerved him, Lucius asked, "Are you seeing her magic, because it now includes a part of ours?"

Gallagher shook his head. "No, Master Malfoy." The small elf sighed and snapped his fingers.

In a flash of light, another elf appeared. Gallagher bowed to her and helped her walk forward. Conjuring a pillow for the other elf to sit comfortably, he turned back to the wizards who were giving him their undivided attention. "This is Mordra. She is the elven historian, knows all and is very old."

Mordra was eyeing the witch on the couch. She raised her hand and silently levitated Hermione to rest beside her. Hermione's head was on the elf's pillow and Mordra was gently running her fingers through the witch's hair. Mordra closed her eyes and breathed deeply. A golden glow surrounded the elf and the witch, and the wizards and Gallagher watched in fascinated silence as Mordra whispered.

When the whispering ended, Hermione's eyes blinked and she smiled. Looking up in the kind face of the elf, she smiled. "Hello. I'm Hermione. What's your name?"

Mordra answered Hermione, but no one heard the words spoken, only Hermione. "Oh, I see. Well, thank you. Do you need my assistance in getting back?"

Silence.

Hermione looked at Gallagher after a moment. "She's ready."

Gallagher looked at his grandmother and bowed before snapping his fingers. His grandmother was gone and Hermione sat up. She was able to see clearly and her head wasn't spinning any longer. Mordra had the chaos that existed in Hermione's mind back in order and for that, Hermione would be eternally grateful.

Gallagher bowed to Hermione and the witch smiled. "Mistress, may I offer you anything?"

Lucius was floored, Gallagher was quiet and acted with disdain or he mumbled and responded with sarcasm. Never had the elf bowed to anyone in the Malfoy household.

"No, thank you, Gallagher. Will we see her again?" Hermione asked, referring to Mordra.

His ears faltered slightly and with a sad smile, he sighed. "No, Mistress. She's gone."

Hermione and the elf shared a moment before he popped out, forgetting the brandies. She stood and walked to the pantry to retrieve eight tumblers. She poured the brandy and served each wizard in the room. With two gulps, she finished hers and set her glass down. "Sorry, I really needed that."

"Understandable," Severus said and followed her lead.

They were all still looking at her like she had grown four additional ears and sprouted a tulip from her forehead. "You're glowing," Theo told her flatly.

A giggle erupted from her throat and she slapped a hand over her mouth to stopper it. Except, that it wouldn't and she ended up plopping on the pretty carpeted floor giggling madly.

"Is she crazy again?" Blaise asked quirking a brow in her direction.

His question made her giggle more. She shook her head, trying to regain composure. "No. Mordra worked everything out."

"By worked everything out, you mean?" Charlie asked.

Hermione furrowed her brows. "My mind… was a jumble of words, voices, emotions…" she shook her head to clear it and continued frowning. "It was you. I mean, they weren't my voices or my emotions… it was strange, but now I'm okay. I think," she said and smiled.

She stood and walked back to the couch. "So, you cast this spell; a call for mates. It pulled me from where I was and now our souls are shared forever."

"That's about the long and short of it," Theo said.

Hermione laughed a bit and lifted a trembling hand up to her temple to reposition a curl. She felt the burn of tears and looked up to the ceiling to prevent them from falling. Her hand fisted and she laughed softly, her breath hitching. "I'm so sorry, I'm not usually like this," she apologized.

Lucius was not one to let a witch cry without his innate sense of chivalry swooping in to save the day; especially when it concerned his witch. Severus, Lucius, Marcus and Charlie all made to step towards her then stopped once aware of the others motion then started again and stopped again. It was a ridiculous dance that ended when Theo strode forward and embraced her.

As his arms went around her, she dropped her forehead against his chest and took a deep breath. She didn't realize that her hands were fisted in his shirt, clutching tightly as though she were afraid he would drop her. Hermione's trembling body slowly relaxed in his warmth.

Theo had kissed the top of her head and was now hunched over with his lips pressing chaste, but comforting kisses along her temple. "Shhhhh, it's okay," he soothed when her deep breaths gained momentum, transitioning into sobs.

Blaise frowned and looked at Draco. Both wearing slightly defeated expressions, they misinterpreted her cries for despair at being bound to them for life. Draco, himself, felt like crying. She was supposed to be theirs in sickness and in health for richer and for poorer; she was supposed to love them… or at least give them a chance.

Defeat turned to anger, and Draco gulped a calming breath. Even in the current state of affairs, witches flocked to him. It was Draco who had made the decision not to engage. Like Marcus, he wanted someone with who he could connect.

Blaise spoke first, breaking the growing tension. "Are we so bad, Granger?"

His message rang clear in Hermione's head and she turned sharply to look at him through red rimmed eyes. "What? No, of course not."

"Then why are you sobbing like we just drowned your familiar?" Draco snapped; his angular face flushed with emotion.

Not letting go of Theo, she spoke. "I-I-"

"Take a deep breath and tell us, Miss Granger," Severus, the voice of reason, imparted with patience.

She nodded and loosened her grip. Seeing Theo's now crumpled shirt, she nervously nibbled on her lower lip. "Sorry about that," she said.

Theo graced her with a smirk. "It's okay, but now you must tell us what you're feeling."

The irony that each of them was very interested in what she was feeling didn't go unnoticed. They were men; _feelings_ were not part of the equation and each of them knew the unspoken rule of never, never **_asking_** a witch what she was feeling.

Hermione, apparently, knew the unspoken rule and giggled. "You're asking me how I feel. Right."

More giggling.

Marcus felt like he was on an emotional roller coaster with her crying and giggling and insanity and lucid states. "Hermione," he said, his voice deep and slightly pleading.

She nodded. "I feel like I want to cry and laugh and run away and stay right here. I want to-" She took another calming breath and twisted a lock of hair around her ear. "I'm fighting the urge to jump in your arms, Theo, and wrap my legs around your waist. I want to bury myself in the dark robes of Professor Snape's and never come out." She looked at Lucius. "My fingers are itching to run through your hair. Your chest, Marcus, is something I would like to spend some time exploring. Draco's hands are calling my body. Blaise's lips look like they need to be given the softest of kisses from mine, and Charlie, if I could just feel your warmth next to me…

"But I don't know if it's real. I have wanted to be married to someone with who I could have an actual conversation and feel attracted to and laugh with for so long, I'd given up. And now, I'm married to the most desirable wizards, but the spell is the only thing provoking your interest in me. I don't know whether to laugh or cry."

They stared at her for the longest minute before her eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh dear sweet Circe, I said all that aloud, didn't I?"

Marcus snorted and nodded.

"What were you going to say?" Charlie asked with a smile on his face.

"Fine," she chirped.

Every one of them erupted in laughter. Hermione's face turned scarlet with embarrassment, though, she could hear the near-silent words of relief and commiseration in her mind from the wizards in the room. They were laughing, but they were all happy that she shared her feelings with them.

"I should be angry, shouldn't I? You took away my choice and married me off to- what? Seven of you?" she asked.

Lucius swallowed, waiting for Severus' prediction of her killing them all to come true.

"That did cross our minds, Granger. You aren't thinking of trying to kill us, right? At least not with a smile on your face; that's just creepy," Draco said, making Lucius scowl at him.

"No, Malfoy, no killing… yet."

The sudden fluster of yelps on the property alerted them to incoming owls. The Malfoy peacocks had long ago learned that catching the smaller owls proved to be a hearty meal. "Do they always do that?" Hermione asked Lucius.

He nodded and waited while Draco opened the French doors and hissed at the birds. They stopped yelping and Gallagher entered, presenting Hermione with seven rolled parchments branded with the Ministry seal.

Charlie frowned and stepped behind her to read over her shoulder. "Mr. Weasley, perhaps giving her some privacy would be in order?" Lucius asked.

Charlie huffed, but didn't move. "It's alright, Mr. Malfoy, he always does this," Hermione replied casually. It made the others in the room cast curious expressions as to how close the two were.

She answered as if they had spoken the words aloud. "I grew up hearing about him and when he came home on holidays, I got to know him. I had the biggest crush on him for a time." Hermione was babbling and reading the parchment at the same time.

Her face went a little pale and she took the nearest seat, which was just in front of where Severus was standing. He took that opportunity to read quickly.

Blaise watched the former spy raise an eyebrow. "It's true," she whispered.

"Did you believe we had lied to you, Miss Granger?" Severus asked.

She twisted her head to see him. "Not exactly, but this really brings it home, you know? And you should call me Hermione… we're –uh, married after all."

Each parchment contained the written record of her binding to the wizards present, along with a message of congratulations from the Ministry and a copied signature of the Minister for good measure.

She stood for a moment and looked at the fire. They waited and very abruptly, she said, "I need to go home. My Kneazle… she's probably worried. A bath and some wine… a lot of wine-"

"Hermione-" Theo called, but was stopped by her shaking her head.

"I'll see you later. I just need some time."

She, literally, ran out the front door and Apparated to her London flat.

"So much for Gryffindor courage," Marcus mused.

 


	5. Me, not them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Smut Smut

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

"If the situation were reversed, would you be all sunshine and rainbows?" Theo snapped.

Blaise sighed. "We can give her time, just not too much. From what I read, we don't have much time to consummate before we all start losing our minds."

They all nodded and sipped their drinks in silence.

The wards vibrated, making Draco and Lucius aware of a visitor. It wasn't Hermione; Lucius sensed a masculine presence.

Gallagher walked in with the Minister of Magic following behind him. "Minister, what a pleasure," Lucius greeted smoothly as if he were expecting the powerful man.

Kingsley nodded in greeting and shook the man's hand. "What brings you?" Lucius asked.

Clearing his throat, Kingsley said, "I'm looking for Hermione Granger." He watched the various reactions from the men in the room.

Lucius sniffed through his nose. _Haughty indifference_.

Severus clenched his jaw. _He hates being questioned_.

Marcus Flint twitched his thumb and glared. _Possessive nature_.

Theo Nott looked everywhere, but at Kingsley. _Like a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar_.

Blaise Zabini looked too intent on not making a move. _A statue_.

Charlie Weasley rolled his eyes. _Can't get away from those Gryffindor tells; not so subtle, Charlie_.

Draco peered around Kingsley, looking for other bodies. _Curiosity_.

Though, it was rare for the Minister to be out and about without an entourage of Aurors following him around.

_Interesting_.

Theo spoke first and garnered the unspoken wrath of the gentlemen present. "She isn't here."

_A game. They wanted to play; well, he could play, too_. _Truth or dare, gentlemen._ "Have you seen her lately?"

"Is she in some kind of trouble, Kings?" Charlie asked, stepping forward out of the shadows with a welcoming, but appropriately concerned smile. _Ah, friendly diversion. Nice move, Weasley_.

"I don't know, yet. Have you spoken to her recently?" _Of course he has_.

Charlie's smile widened. "Of course. We owl at least once per week and meet for lunch often enough. Why? Has she not contacted you in a while?" _Again, with fake concern and a bit of bragging tacked on to the end._

Kingsley smiled. "I speak to her every day, which is why I'm concerned. I haven't heard from her today." _Check mate_.

"Well, this is an odd place to begin your search for someone who speaks to her every day, Minister," Severus said; never one to play games.

Marcus was tired of beating around the proverbial bush. They knew that Kingsley knew, and they knew he knew they knew. "She went home," Marcus told the man.

Kingsley's focus snapped toward the burly wizard. "How long ago?"

Marcus shrugged. "Three or four hours ago." _Three hours, forty-six minutes and twelve, no- thirteen, seconds to be exact, but who's counting?_

"And you let her go?" Kingsley asked. The men stiffened slightly at the implication.

Draco huffed. "She's not a prisoner, Minister," he said, offended.

Kingsley was feeling particularly possessive with Hermione right now and snapped a response for which he would later kick himself. "Not _anymore_ , she isn't." He thought he heard quiet hissing in response to his hasty remark.

He prided himself on his diplomacy at all times, and the only time he had let down his guard was with Hermione, _that night_.

Kingsley's snide comment prompted Severus to react. "We are not fighting a war any longer, Minster. Miss Granger is not, nor will she ever be, kept prisoner by us… unless she gives her consent," he added with a smirk.

Kingsley gritted his teeth, but then sighed in concession. "You're right, of course, Severus. Please accept my apologies; I'm worried about her."

**OoO**

Dipping her foot in the steaming, scented water, Hermione sighed and lowered her aching body in the bubble bath. "Ahhhh."

She inhaled deeply a few times, focusing her mind to quiet. _Married_. She was the recipient of a soul binding; the  Calling. She waved her hand and levitated the old tome to float in front of her. Mordra had been specific; page 712 would tell her what she needed to know.

The book rested and Hermione laid her head back on the bath cushion and began reading. Before long, her eyelids got heavier and she got sleepy.

Hermione startled and sat up coughing. She'd fallen asleep and sunk under water. The book was on the floor, safely away from the damaging moisture. She stepped out, dried off and crawled under her cool sheets to rest her body and soul(s).

The moon was high in the sky when she woke, hearing banging on her door. There were only a few people who could pass her wards without trouble. More banging.

She groaned and stood up, looking for her clothes.

"Hermione!" a deep voice yelled from her porch.

Kingsley. They were friends and had grown closer since the end of the war. They were an unlikely pair for being as close as they were. They also held a secret that they both vowed to never tell another living soul.

Hermione wasn't sure why that particular memory zoomed to the forefront of her mind, but it did. Sighing, she stood up and yelled that she was on her way. While she slipped on her slippers and donned a fuzzy robe, she recalled the event.

*** ** _Memories_**

Hermione spun the glass around then picked it up to swallow the last of her fruity concoction. "Hermione?"

Her head snapped up to look into the deep brown eyes of Kingsley Shacklebolt. It had been a year since the end of the war and the last time she'd seen Kingsley. They'd fought back to back for at least two hours, moving as a unit, tearing down the opposition.

They'd collapsed, still back to back and laughed after a few minutes in pure joy of being among the living.

"Hi," Hermione chirped and patted the stool next to hers. "I'm drunk," she volunteered and to back up the declaration with fact, she swayed. Kingsley's strong arm caught her and set her to rights. "Thanks!"

He chuckled and sat down beside her. Their conversation started tentatively, awkwardly, but soon transitioned into easy camaraderie.

During a lull, he asked, "What are you thinking?"

Never in her entire life had she been asked what she was thinking. Her friends were all too smart to ask her that and have to sit and listen to her lecture on whatever it was that she was thinking.

"I'm thinking …that it's nice to be asked what I'm thinking."

He nodded and then frowned. "Would you- would you like to get out of here?" he asked, avoiding eye contact.

She found herself nodding and whispered, "yes."

He dropped two Galleons on the counter, grabbed her hand and Disapparated them both back to his flat. They didn't have any drinks or further their conversation. She didn't even have time to breathe as her breath was stolen from her body by his lips on hers. Slamming her up against the nearest wall, she grasped at his shirt and fisted her hands in his robes. From there, it was gasps of air, lapping tongues, sucking lips, nibbling teeth and friction.

At some point, he lifted her and was now rutting against her. She was moaning and massaging his now bare shoulders, urging him to take her. "I want you, Hermione. Please," he begged in his chocolate voice.

She was nodding enthusiastically, thinking if she kept that up she was going to get dizzy. It also occurred to her that she should say something to him, before he found out the hard way.

Hermione screeched in pain and her body stiffened. Too late.

Kingsley stopped, stunned. "You're a virgin?" he asked, his voice incredulous.

"Not anymore," she replied, waiting for the pain to subside. She wasn't sure how bright this idea was; she still couldn't breathe. His seemed very large and was filling and stretching her unused passage completely.

The pain faded, turning into pleasure. "Please don't stop," she pleaded.

He groaned when he felt her pulse around him. "Yes," he said and pulled out slowly. Her face reflected her disappointment. "Shhhhh," he soothed, carrying her to his bed. Laying her down, he knelt between her spread legs and kissed her sensitive womanhood.

She arched and mewled in pleasure. Kingsley flicked her clit and kissed her puffy lips. He went back to her throbbing nerves and latched on. The slow suction of his mouth made her feel like she was going to explode, the pressure in her belly, the tingling of her skin, the shaking of her thighs; it was all too much. She came with a shout and before she could regain her senses, he plunged into her again, stretching her, filling her, pleasing her.

Holding her hips, he raised himself to his knees and with each thrust, he pulled her into him, watching her breasts bounce with his movement. She came again and he wasn't able to move through it, her channel was so tight.

Sighing, he spilled himself into her body, and together, they collapsed, falling into a deep, sated sleep.

The next morning proved a bit strange. She opened her eyes. He was already awake and watching her. "You're the Minister of Magic," she blurted.

"Good morning to you also, and yes, I am."

"Er… good morning. You're the Minister of bloody Magic!" Her voice was getting a bit shrill.

He chuckled. "Yes, but I thought we'd established that."

"I'm Hermione Granger."

He smiled at her again. "They don't call you the cleverest witch of your age for nothing. Well spotted, you are Hermione Granger."

She huffed with humor. "I-I…" She was now scrambling up, gathering clothes.

"Hermione, it's okay. It's not the right time for us, but I don't regret last night," he said, sitting up with a sheet covering his nudity.

His statement gave her pause and she smiled. "I don't regret it either. Thank you."

Hermione came back to the present time and inhaled. After that night, they saw each other everywhere. They talked and laughed, and soon, they were seeking each out just to talk.

Their relationship was purely platonic and they both cherished the friendship they had now.

**OoO**

"Kings?" Hermione said as she opened the door and let in his hulking figure.

"Hermione, you..." He had prepared to tell her, but it was too late. He knew that. If he'd been clearer with his owls, instead of just urging her to get married and have children, she wouldn't be in this situation. What he should have done was ask her to marry _him_ and have babies with _him_. He was certain that she would have come to love him… eventually.

She beckoned him to the kitchen and started brewing tea. "Sit. Are you alright?" she asked.

"You're …glowing," he pointed out with a confused expression.

She rolled her eyes and turned towards the whistling tea kettle. "So I've been told."

Silence rained down on them while she set their tea and served him. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

Hermione wasn't surprised that he knew; he was the Minister of Magic, after all. "They performed The Calling, but instead of receiving a mate for each of them; they got stuck with me."

Kingsley didn't say anything, opting instead to sip his tea, which was perfectly brewed and mixed with just the right amount of honey and cream.

She worried her lip. She didn't want this to come in between them. He was her closest friend. "I would think you'd be happy about this, Kings. All those owls telling me to settle down…"

He snorted at the irony. "Hermione – I wanted you to settle down, of course; but I wanted you to settle down with me," he confessed.

Hermione's face scrunched in misunderstanding. "You don't love me like that," she declared and she knew it to be true. When he continued to look at her with those eyes of his, realization dawned. He didn't' want to be alone and with the state of affairs as it was it was unlikely he would find someone.

If she were in his shoes, she would be the likely choice. They got on well, already knew each other intimately. He'd taken her virginity for heaven's sake.

She nodded. "I get it." She took his hand and squeezed gently. "I get it," she repeated.

After a moment, he asked, "So, you're married to seven wizards; all of them Slytherin except one."

She giggled a bit. "Yes, they are quite yummy, aren't they?"

He choked on his tea and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "Not sure if I would describe them as such, but, you know, to each his… her own." This made her laugh, and in turn, made him laugh as well.

Something in the back of her mind gave her pause. Kingsley and she were rather close friends, but… "Is it illegal?"

"Being married to seven wizards? No, not illegal. It's unusual perhaps, but not illegal."

"What about the ritual; The Calling?"

He shook his head. "Not to my knowledge." She sighed in relief and poured them more tea.

 


	6. Slytherdor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Smut!

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

Kingsley left two hours after he'd arrived.

Hermione was still exhausted and waved her hand, cleaning up the kitchen with a quick spell. Her feet felt heavy as she stomped up the stairs. Yawning, she opened her bedroom door, shrugged off her robe and walked, unseeing, to her bed.

Charlie watched her from the comfortable seat in the shadows of her room. His breath hitched when the thin scrap of material she was using as cover, slipped to the floor in a puddle of soft purple cotton. The moonlight glowed off of her lightly tanned skin.

He could see the profile of her pert breasts and dusky nipples; the curve of her bum, the slender muscle of her legs as they flexed, feminine ankles, the shine of a toe ring near her painted toenails, and long-fingered hands.

He wanted her.

Hermione was close to her bed when she felt the presence; both in her mind and in the room. It was a whispered knowledge of desire; a thickening in the air around her; a reaction from her magic to his.

She stopped and turned as her stomach flip flopped with anticipation. "Charlie," she called quietly.

He stood and she could make out the stretch of his tee shirt across his chest, the outline of his muscled biceps, the cut 'V' of his waist, the thickness of his thighs and the bulge in his denims.

Slowly, he closed the short distance and stopped in front of her naked form. Hermione could feel the heat from his body and her skin tingled.

Charlie lifted a finger to trace from her temple, down her cheek and neck, to the slope of her shoulder, and across her clavicle. The thick finger stopped at the swell of her breast and circled her areola.

She shivered, and he watched goose flesh erupt on the expanse of her skin beginning with her nipple. It pebbled under his gaze and he licked his lips.

She hadn't ever felt this urgent and …raw.

Charlie didn't look to her for her agreement or consent; he just lowered his head to suckle.

Sighing, she dropped her head back and carded her fingers through his soft hair, keeping his head in place.

The suction was slow and deliberate at first then grew with intensity. Her moans of appreciation and reflexive scratching on his scalp prompted him to nip and lick, ending with a sharp bite. She hissed, but didn't move away.

Charlie's strong hands were gripping her hips firmly as he took his time with her breasts, but after the sound she made, he slid his rough and callused hands down the soft, smooth skin of her outer thighs and then back up on the inside.

She twitched when he cupped her, but pulled his hair in the most delicious way when he circled her clit with his thumb and pushed two fingers inside of her.

He stopped momentarily to look up at her while still nuzzling the soft tissue of her bosom. "What do want, Hermione? Do you want to spread your legs for me? Do you want me to lick your pretty little cunt? I can smell you, you know? It's intoxicating. And your tits are magnificent; the perfect size. I could suck on them all night, love. Do you want that? Do you want me to fuck you until you can't walk straight?"

His words were whispered and dirty. She could feel his lips move against her sensitive skin; from between the mounds he couldn't seem to get enough of.

His words aroused her to the point of no return. Yes, she wanted him to fuck her until she couldn't remember her name. Right now, though, all she could do was pump her hips in rhythm to his fingers moving slowly in and out of her.

"Hermione, answer me. Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Y-yes. Oh, please, don't stop."

He growled his pleasure and pulled his fingers out of her sex. He leisurely and without breaking eye contact, placed them in his mouth. Closing his eyes and inhaling, he sucked every drop of her essence from his fingers.

She was fairly certain that she would just pass out from the eroticism of it all.

"Charlie, please…"

He opened his eyes and pierced her with an intense stare. "I want to taste you. Bend over for me and touch your toes."

Her mind was hazy, and she did as told.

"Spread your legs a little more," he ordered quietly. "That's right. Just like that."

Dropping to his knees, he opened his mouth and entered her with his tongue, pulling her cheeks apart like a split melon, letting her juices run down his chin. "You're so wet," he commented before flicking her clit. It was ripe and ready to burst, but he wanted to tease her.

His finger dipped inside of her, then trailed out and up to her rosebud.

Her legs were already shaking and her breath was coming in short gasps. "Relax, Hermione."

She tried, but she wanted to come.

This was so different from her experience with Kingsley that she didn't initially register what he was about to do. When she felt the slight burn, she tensed and tried to stand.

"No, no, baby," he said, grabbing her wrist and keeping it at her ankle. He gently pushed and pulled a few times with his finger, and when she relaxed, he leaned in, took her clit between his teeth, and flicked his tongue back and forth.

She screamed his name and stiffened. He drank every drop of her come and stood only when she wobbled, ready to crumble to the floor.

Sweeping her up bridal style, he carried her to the bed, spread her legs and after letting his denims drop around his ankles, he plunged into her.

Hermione bowed her back as his wide girth filled and stretched her.

He didn't give her time to adjust; he pumped with shallow thrusts. His pelvic bone rubbed her clit and his cock brushed against the spot inside of her, making her spread her legs further apart and chant, "yes, yes, yes."

His mouth was once again latched to her breast, completely hiding from view her entire nipple. Hermione wondered, vaguely, if he was this obsessive with all of his previous witch's breasts.

She lost her breath when the suckling man both nipped her sensitive skin, squeezed her thighs with steel fingers, and shoved himself farther into her body.

It was delightful.

"Pay attention, little girl," he snarled from her chest.

Hitting her cervix again with a rather sharp pain, she cried out not expecting a second time. "Charlie?" she asked, though she didn't want him to stop and he didn't want to; he just wanted her pretty little mind to be focused on what he was doing to her.

He nipped again and surged forward. He grunted. He would come soon.

Hermione's fingers were alternating between massaging his shoulders and pulling his hair. Her eyes were dilated and her lips were parted letting out little breaths of air.

Satisfied that she was indeed paying attention, he went back to suckling.

Hermione was mewling and panting and urging. She was going to come again.

Charlie felt her velvet walls flutter and knew she was close. His sac felt tight and his stomach muscles clenched in anticipation. He sucked harder and relished the feeling of her small, feminine frame writhing under him. He loved the slickness of their skin; he loved the tightness of her sex; he loved that she was so responsive and uninhibited; he loved that she had the most perfect breasts known to man; magnificent, really. He loved the sounds she was making; he loved the way that she couldn't decide if she wanted to spread her legs for him or wrap them around his waist.

His movement became faster and more erratic; she was screaming now as she came again. He grunted and stiffened, spilling his seed.

He remained connected to her, while they caught their breath. He would occasionally lick her nipple or suckle.

Hermione's soft voice pulled him down from heaven and sent an electrical shock through him, effectively sending his just returned cranial blood flow back down to his nether region. "You like my breasts, Charlie?" Her voice was quiet and raspy and girlish and sexy as hell.

She meant to tease him, but when she felt his hot breath near her nipple… again, and his length go rigid inside of her, she startled, "Oh!"

"Mmmmm," was all he said as he began moving within her.

They made love for the rest of the night and just before dawn; they fell asleep tangled up in each other, with his head to her bosom and her arms holding him there.

Hermione woke up a couple of hours later in a slight panic. "What's wrong?"

The vibration from his voice against her chest made her take a breath. "I – need to get back," she said, blinking and trying to sit up.

One of her husband's was worried …or something. She could hear fuzzy whispered messages, but it was strained; garbled.

Charlie sighed and let her up. "I'll go back to Malfoy Manor to see if anyone there is …in pain or something." He grimaced. He didn't like the men with who he was now sharing a wife, but he'd wanted a wife. He was ready to settle down, but he had specific characteristics he was looking for and none of the witches with who his mother set him up had them; nor did the witches he'd met on his own.

He'd bumped into Lucius Malfoy during a drunken brawl at a seedy pub. They'd both been tossed into a corner by a badly cast _Stupefy_ by some drunk wanker.

It had turned out to be a meeting charmed by fate. They got to talking, there in the corner, lamenting about the state of affairs, when Lucius shared his current endeavor with the unlikely ally.

Charlie was immediately intrigued and offered his assistance to help finding the book. It had been Charlie's introduction of Lucius to some key people, that Lucius found the book. The grave was an ancestor of one of Charlie's former co-dragon keepers on the reserve in Romania.

Hermione touched his shoulder, jarring him out of his reverie. "Charlie?"

He blinked twice. "Sorry… I zoned out for a bit. You're dressed," he said.

She smiled. "Well spotted. Are you staying or going?"

He nodded, cast a Scourgify and got dressed. "I'm coming with you."

Together, they Floo'd back to Malfoy Manor.

OoO

They entered a dark room, which Hermione recognized as the study where she had been… married. The elegant space smelled of aged leather and spiced tobacco usually smoked from fine cigars. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes.

"Hermione?" It wasn't Charlie who spoke. Both voices were deep, but Charlie's tended to be both playful and arrogant. This voice was hopeful and relieved. "Theo?" she asked. She knew it was him. Something within her mental awareness told her it was him.

Theo stood and greeted Charlie. "Weasley."

"Nott." Charlie shifted on his feet a few times, but Theo's unshaking stare down effectively dismissed the stocky redhead. "I'll just go," he said.

Once Charlie had gone, Hermione turned her focus to Theo. He was almost screaming at her in her mind and she cringed at his anxiety. "Theo, please, calm down," she said in the softest most soothing voice she could muster.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Right. Calm down. Calm down." His voice had started out raspy, but was swiftly moving to sharp. "This _marriage_ is all wrong!"

Hermione didn't say anything, only stood and listened. "We're married, Granger! M-a-r-r-i-e-d married. In fact, you're married to seven wizards. Seven!"

Irritation washed over her and her eyes narrowed. "Yes, I can both spell and count; and I am aware of the situation. Thank you," she snapped.

Now _she_ needed to calm down.

Spinning on her heel to head towards the couch, she sat gracefully while shifting her robes out from under her so she wouldn't wrinkle them.

Theo's muffled gasp had her hazel eyes looking back at him with concern and curiosity.

He was standing stock still, watching her, mouth agape. "What?" she asked.

His arm lifted slightly and his index finger pointed at her. "You billowed," he said.

Hermione quirked an eye brow, something she didn't know she could do until this very moment, and asked, "I billowed?"

He wanted to answer her, but in the span of thirty seconds, she had mimicked both Severus Snape, with the billow of her robes, and Lucius Malfoy, with the condescending lift of one eye brow.

Theo plopped in a chair and dropped his head in his hands. "It's happening. What are we going to do? I can't… you can't… just… Snape… weird." He was babbling, he knew it, but couldn't seem to control it.

The day before yesterday, he'd been Theo Nott: confident, smart, rich, and… single with no prospects – ever. Yesterday, he'd participated in a spell that would remedy the 'single' part; and maybe the rich part too. He remembered his mother's spending sprees. His father had always complained that she would finally end the Nott wealth and put them in the poor house.

Theo had expected a wife… of his own; someone who he could get along with and maybe, after a time, they would even like each other. He was looking forward to a witch with the characteristics he had carefully written out on his parchment.

Before agreeing to this madness, he'd carefully weighed the pros and cons of agreeing. He'd thought it through to the very end. The list he'd made had more pros than cons. He'd then written a list of things he liked and didn't like about his former girlfriends. It wasn't a difficult list to write; he hadn't many ex-girlfriends and the one's he did have all had clear traits that he'd disliked. Theo had then written down all of the things he could live with, even if they weren't ideal.

In the end, he'd been left with three distinct lists of traits and characteristics for his witch: Ideal, Passable, and No Way In Hades.

Theo took four Ideal and two Passable, and merged them onto the parchment he'd used in the ritual.

It was all for naught. He now had to share his wife with six other wizards, and there was no way that his list and their lists were the same. He knew for a fact that Marcus preferred stupid women, and Blaise liked them tall and lanky. Lucius… well, he liked all types of women if listening to him wax nostalgia every week was any indication. Theo didn't have any idea what type of witch Snape liked and he couldn't guess. He'd never once seen Severus with a witch, nor had he heard the man ever speak of one with any tone other than irritation. Yesterday had been the first time he'd heard Severus defend a witch; _their_ witch. Theo figured the potion's master was a chauvinist, especially after the way he'd reacted when he'd found out that they were all going to perform The Calling; sneering and huffing with impatience.

Hermione's frustrated inhale of oxygen brought his head out of his hands and his eyes trained on hers. "You're having trouble adjusting to the results of the ritual then?" she asked.

He just looked at her. "Yes, I'm having a bit of trouble over the fact that you can't possibly be my mate, because you're also supposed to be six other people's mate as well. I'm having trouble over the fact that I must now share my wife. That your attentions, time, and affections will not be on me or for me for the most part. This is indeed troubling me!" He was yelling now and standing waving his arms in the air reemphasizing his frustration.

Hermione sat there partly stunned at his emotional display and partly fighting the urge to laugh out loud at his emotional display. She didn't know where this inclination to laugh came from. She was never one to react with humor; and _that_ fact, coupled with the other two out-of-character proclivities made her wary. She wondered which of her other husbands laughed in the face of someone else's distress. Her mind automatically went to Draco.

Before she could clamp her mouth shut, it opened and words came tumbling out dripping with sarcasm. "You were sorted into Slytherin, yes?"

Theo stopped and looked at her. His expression told her she had very accurately offended him.

Two snorts of humor sounded from the door; apparently she wasn't the only person who thought Theo wasn't nearly as Slytherin as the other Slytherin. Hermione figured there were degrees of Slytherin and he was bordering on the end. Mentally, her mind flashed the word: Slytherdor. It was an odd mixture of both Slytherin and Gryffindor. He was forever doomed to be Slytherdor to her.

Hermione turned around to fuss at the snorters. She could make sarcastic remarks to her husbands, but no one else could. Opening her mouth mid-turn, her jaw snapped shut upon revelation.

Lucius stood there with his hair unbound and slightly mussed. Her eyes traveled to his muscled biceps, and corded forearms; and slowly traversed his very broad, very shirtless chest.

_Oh._

"See something you like, Granger?" Draco asked smugly.

Hermione started to nod, but thought better of it and caught herself.

"Hello! Still here!" Theo exclaimed from behind her.

Hermione flipped around to roll her eyes, in plain sight, to Theo, but was interrupted by yet another of her husbands. "What's going on?" Blaise asked.

"Are you all awake?" she asked, noticing Marcus standing in the dark behind Blaise and Draco.

"Who can sleep with Theo screaming like a girl?" Draco asked.

"You do realize the hour, Miss Granger?" Severus said entering the room.

This time Hermione was slightly offended. Why was she to blame for Theo's clear upset? Unfortunately, she didn't have to speak the words; they rang clearly from her mind to Severus'.

Not realizing that it was a quite loud mental communication on her part, he winced then spoke aloud. "Because you are the reason for his …irritation."

She was shaking her head no and the others were looking at the two of them in confusion at the one-sided debate.

 _No, he called me. I came here worried that something had happened_ , she exclaimed silently.

"He was _worried_ due to our circumstance. The circumstance being that we are sharing one witch instead of finding individual mates," Severus reiterated.

More denial from her, but this time she screamed her discontent at his accusation. " _You_ called _me_! _You_ bound yourselves to _me_! I did not do this to you; you did this to me!" She was pacing and more agitated than any of them had ever seen her.

Lucius was expecting her to pull her wand and cast them all into oblivion. He was certain she was powerful enough. If the Dark Lord had realized what a gem she was and won her over; they would all be living in shadowed misery.

Hermione's eyes shot to Lucius'. "You can be assured, Mr. Malfoy, that had I been in close enough proximity for Voldemort to _realize what a gem_ I was, he wouldn't have had the time to win me over, for I would have burnt him and anyone near him to ash in an instant; even if it meant my demise," she hissed.

Magic was crackling around her, sparking and popping. The heat her magic generated had them all glistening from perspiration.

Lucius made a mental note to school his thinking. "Why me?" she asked, her voice soft, her eyes pleading, but only for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was assertive; almost motherly. "If you can't live with the consequences of your actions, we will be miserable."

"We can live with our consequences, Miss Granger, but there are growing pains to every change in life. We must allow ourselves time for adjustment and make efforts to prevent divisive behavior," Lucius wisely stated.

Hermione nodded her agreement.

"What sorts of actions?" Theo asked. He was calm and open to suggestion, and mildly embarrassed at his behavior.

"We need to spend time together and get to know each other," Hermione said.

Draco smiled. "We know you, Granger." He was about to say more, but she stopped him.

"However much you think you know me; you don’t, and I don't know you, not really. We grew up together, separately. We learned the same magic, but interpreted it differently. We were children caught on different sides of a war and now we're adults." She was looking at them all while speaking. They returned her gaze with silent interest.

"I don't know what makes you tic, Draco. I don't know why Blaise always dates those witches who never eat. I don't know why Theo gets the strange patients. I don't understand why Marcus insists on not wearing protective gear when testing Quidditch products." She paused and then continued, "And you don't know me."

Charlie stepped forward and gave her a warm smile. "We know that you love books," he started, making her huff with humor.

"We know that you're loyal," Marcus said without humor.

"We know that you are protective," Draco added, touching his nose as a reminder of third year.

"We know that you like conversation," Blaise stated.

"We know that you are a caring soul, absent of malice for those you love," Lucius said.

"We know that your work ethics are diligent and precise," Severus said, watching her with onyx eyes.

Theo now understood and added something from his list. "We know that organization calms you."

Hermione, of course, hadn't expected this and at Lucius' comment, she'd begun to tear up. Now, her cheeks were wet and she was sniffling. Their words had touched her soul. "And we know that you're a sap," Draco finished with a smile.

Hermione nodded and softly laughed. "Your lists," she surmised. "All of those characteristics are on your lists."

They each nodded in turn as her eyes focused on them individually. She swallowed. "I didn't make a list, but all of those things are important to me as well." She was feeling a range of emotions, and didn't know which to react to first. The anxiety seemed to be the strongest when coupled with adrenaline. It made her tremble and look to her husbands for guidance.

They seemed to be at a loss for a moment before the need to comfort and reassure their wife took over.

Severus slowly opened his arms to her. His movement was uncertain, but the message was loud and clear. Hermione stepped into them, hugging him tightly and pressing her cheek into his pajama-clad chest. He paused in mild surprise before he wrapped them around her and lowered his face to kiss the top of her head.

A thought occurred to her while encompassed in the warm arms of her former potions professor. "I had sex with Charlie. A few hours ago," she blurted and then cringed for the reaction.

She heard a thump and looked up. Draco was leaned up against the wall, laughing so hard tears were starting to leak from his eyes.

Blaise chuckled and said, "Okay, who asked for divulgence of unnecessary information as a desired character trait?"

Marcus sighed and stepped forward. "Does 'speak her mind' fit into that category?"

They all looked at him like he was mad.

"What? I wanted someone with an opinion; someone I could-"

"Converse with," Blaise finished, nodding.

Theo had the same item. "Me, too."

"I had something similar," Lucius included.

Severus nodded.

Hermione giggled from her spot. Severus pushed at her shoulders and looked down at her, frowning. "Are you mocking us, Miss Granger?" There was no humor in his presentation.

She swallowed another giggle and shook her head. "No, of course not, but I am aware of the irony that men who prefer to observe, value the art of conversation in their women."

"Not 'in their women', Hermione; in their wife," Blaise clarified.

She cleared her throat and pulled away from Severus. "Right. I apologize."

Breaking the awkward silence, Draco asked, "So, will we be sitting down and having a group get-to-know-you session, or will we get one-on-one time with the teacher?"

Choosing to ignore his sarcasm, she answered, "One-on-one time. That would be more comfortable for me, at least." She didn't mean it to sound selfish, but she wondered if it came out that way. "I mean, if-if you're amenable to that," she added.

"Who's first?" Theo asked, ignoring her.

 


	7. And he was worried...

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

Alphabetical order. That's what they had decided. Hermione's nerves were twittering with anxiety as she sat and waited for Marcus.

She huffed. This was too much. It was always the waiting. Waiting for an attack, waiting for Ron, waiting for Harry to breathe again, waiting for them to discover a Horcrux… not necessarily in that order, but still; she hated waiting. This would all go more smoothly if she could burn off some energy.

Hermione stood so quickly her head spun a little bit. The idea burst through her mind like a tidal wave; she would run a few kilometers and then she'd be able to sit down and –talk.

The double doors were flung open and rushing out in their wake was Hermione Granger offering a quick apology to her very confused looking husbands. The second she was out the front door, she Apparated with a crack, simultaneously muttering a Transfiguration spell to change her clothes.

Lucius, Draco, and Severus had been watching her stride outside the boundary. Just before she Apparated, her clothes glowed a bright blue and her shirt switched to a form fitting number.

Draco smirked and Lucius said, "Powerful little wife we have."

"Was there a doubt?" Severus replied.

Marcus had come up behind them. "I'm not scary, am I?" The three turned towards him and Draco laughed. The burly wizard was completely perplexed at her behavior. How was he going to talk to her with her gone?

"I think she's just nervous," Severus comforted in a purely masculine manner.

Lucius looked at him, his expression matching Marcus' previous one, and couldn't help but rib the dour man. "Marriage is agreeing with you, Severus."

The former potions professor snarled at the chuckling wizards in the back ground.

**OoO**

Hermione, literally, hit the ground running. Up the hill at fast pace, she rounded corners and sprinted straights and regulated her breathing. Her thighs burned, her shoulders started to ache and sweat dripped down between her breasts. By the time she rounded the last bend on her return trip, she was ready to stop. Walking the last half kilometer to cool down, she Apparated back to Malfoy Manor, and upon arriving, she frowned at herself. She needed to bathe and should've gone home.

The door opened while she stood on the cobbled pathway. Waiting for her in the entry was Draco and Blaise – the welcoming committee. Taking a calming breath, she put one foot in front of the other and walked up the steps. The two parted like the Red Sea allowing her entry into the foyer.

Hermione tried to be discreet as she lowered her face slightly to ensure that her post-run aroma hadn't caused them to faint. Blaise chuckled at her and she turned to glare at him, making his smile broader. "You smell just fine, Granger," he said, keeping his thoughts closely guarded so she wouldn't 'hear' them.

Turning back around and walking forward, Draco muttered, "More than fine…"

She heard and grimaced. Flirting. He was flirting with her and she wasn't sure how to react. Men didn't flirt with her; they usually backed slowly away and didn't make any sudden movements.

**OoO**

Lucius and Severus had watched the large wizard pace back and forth for nigh an hour. "Flint, the rug," Lucius reminded pointedly looking at the expensive material. "You'll wear a path," he said.

Severus shook his head. "You're worse than any witch I've ever known."

Lucius snorted derisively, but didn't respond.

Marcus continued pacing mentally arguing with himself.

He was large and intimidating and regularly employed all of the traits that Slytherin was known for, but he was also exceedingly shy. The inclination to observe without verbal commentary acted to his benefit. Most people thought him dense, only good for bullying or sports, but he wasn't a bully. In fact, he loathed the concept of using physical violence as a method for obedience.

Most of all, though, Marcus was used to witches doing all the talking and giving him cues as to when they welcomed his advances and that usually only occurred when they were frustrated beyond all recognition at his 'gentlemanly' behavior. He'd never really had an interactive conversation with a witch he was interested in and now, it looked as if he would have to engage. It was what he'd asked the fates for, but he was nervous. His anxiety just got worse as the duration of Hermione's absence lengthened.

Marcus stopped, and Lucius and Severus stood as the subject of his thoughts walked in looking absolutely edible.

"Please forgive me, I should have gone home to shower, but my magic thought I should be here. Marcus, please accept my apologies for running out on you. I just needed…"

"I understand," he interrupted.

She nodded, wondering how to ask if she could shower and change, but Lucius smirked. "We'll leave you to it then."

Hermione frowned. "But… I-"

Marcus knew where she was going with this and for some reason was violently opposed to her cleaning up. "No!" he barked louder than he meant.

Hermione jumped a bit and the men in the room, absent Charlie and Theo, looked at him with various expressions of humor, surprise, and irritation.

Hermione's jaw clicked shut and she blinked. "Ah, okay," she conceded with mild confusion.

"I mean… I-" It was Marcus' turn to stammer through an explanation, but he stopped when the wizards clicked the door shut, leaving them alone – together.

Silence fell around them, with Hermione sitting on the couch and Marcus standing.

After a moment, she started to feel a tingle, a pull in her belly. She knew he was looking at her, studying her. The blush burned her cheeks, her neck, and part of her bosom area. She became a bit dizzy, but not nauseatingly so, more like she was floating.

Clearing her throat, she whispered, "Marcus."

(*)

Marcus was feeling similarly. He wanted to touch her and be near her. When she whispered his name, he felt an undeniable urge to reveal his soul to her.

(*)

Amidst the heat, discomfort, and longing, she felt slightly insecure about her state. Post run, sweaty and disheveled.

(*)

"Hermione," he whispered back, taking a tentative step forward.

"What do you-" Hermione started, raising her eyes to meet his.

Marcus interrupted. "I want to smell you," he blurted, surprising both of them, but it was the God's honest truth. The idea made his mouth water.

Hermione tilted her head and swallowed. "Umm, all right." She stood and closed the distance. _This is awkward_ , she thought as she moved her head to the side for him to …sniff.

She missed the look on his face when it turned from pleasant curiosity to raw desire in less than a second. "No, Princess," he said quietly then dropped to knees in front of her.

Hermione gasped as he took her hips in his large hands and brought them forward. His long, thick fingers breached the bottom hem of her tank top, and skimmed across the soft skin of her belly. Her stomach flip flopped.

He inhaled loudly and kissed her lower abdomen. "Mmmmmm," he mumbled.

The vibration from the rich baritone prompted her fingers to card through his hair, pulling his lips and nose closer to her skin. Marcus flicked out his tongue, tickling and sucking.

Her small fingers began to massage his scalp, pushing and pulling, gently scratching and kneading.

His mouth trailed wet kisses from her belly button to her hips, kissing the point and sliding to the other. He deftly maneuvered under the waistband of her running pants and pulled down, revealing more of her creamy skin for his enjoyment. Her musky smell got stronger with each inch of her skin disclosed.

His tongue dipped down beneath the fabric's boundary to her mons and just slightly beneath it. The tip of his tongue parted her folds slightly, making her hiss and provoking a more urgent removal of her clothes from him.

Finally, her pants slid to her knees where he ripped them in two and tossed them to the side. Shouldering in between her legs, he lifted one of her knees and rested it beside his ear. Her smell was intoxicating and when he leaned forward licking and tonguing and sucking and eating, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. The sounds she made were urging him on; his erection was biting painfully into the buttons on his trousers, but her taste and smell and sounds and motions drove him forward. Pushing a finger inside of her slick canal, he moaned. So tight around his finger, he longed to have her wrapped around his cock.

Marcus' tongue and finger set a rhythm, in and out, up and down, pressure on her clit and the stimulation of the spongy area inside of her; it was all too much. She screamed her rapture as his tongue continued it onslaught of her core.

Hermione wouldn't be able to stand, he realized as the thigh on his shoulder shook. Before she came floating down, he stood, picking her up with him and laid her down on the sofa. Her legs were still spread for him and his hands still gripped her thighs, only now, his arms were under her hamstrings and he was pulling her apart.

Her eyes were dark beads of desire, while she frantically fumbled with the closures of his trousers. Frustrated, she cast, 'Divesto' leaving him bare for her wondering eyes.

He didn't wait for her vision to include his cock, he wanted in and sank quickly into her depths only to pull out and return with aggression.

Marcus was quiet, only his breathing and her mewls of passion could be heard, but he was certain that his heart was pounding so loud the wizards in the kitchen could hear it.

He watched a drop of sweat beaded on her forehead and drip quickly into her hairline. He shifted his eyes to her face, darting to her slightly parted lips, the glow of her skin, her open eyes watching him watching her.

Her fingers were wrapped around his wrists and they were squeezing and releasing in synchronization with the pumping of his hips. "Are you okay?" he asked while he surged forward causing her to inhale and buck her hips.

"Yes, Marcus. Never been better. Again," she ordered him as he slid out of her.

Upon her command, he rose onto his knees, lifted and spread her legs, and rushed his pelvis to collide with the apex of her thighs.

The result was eye-closing ecstasy materialized by groans and moans of approval.

In again, hard. "You-feel-so-good-to-me, Hermione," Marcus' whisper was so rushed, it sounded like one word with 'Hermione' at the end.

Hermione opened her legs and rocked her hips in time with his, making every movement a tease to her clit, bringing her ever closer to another orgasm. Their coupling was intensified by the fact that neither had broken eye contact. Charcoal steadied hazel.

"We should be… ah, talking," Hermione panted, wanting him to move faster, to hit harder.

He nodded and read her expression instead of listening to her words. "Harder, love?"

"Gods, yes!" she screamed as he lifted her up and walked to the wall. Standing up, holding her, he pounded into her until her body stiffened and her breathing ceased.

He slowed his pace as he watched her pretty face turn from desire to euphoria.

When her eyes fluttered open, he was still pumping shallowly, waiting.

She kissed him then and tightened the grip of her legs around his thick waist. "We aren't done, yet," he said.

Hermione rewarded him with a smile warm enough to hatch a dozen eggs.

An hour later, she was on all fours and Marcus was behind her, pistoning in and out of her. His large hands were holding her hips, bringing her back into him with force. His movement was getting erratic and faster. "Love, I'm – nnnngggggghhhng."

It was just what she needed to spark her own climax. She screamed his name as the force of it drained the remainder of her energy. Her bones had turned to jelly an hour before and she was certain that she would be crushed under him, because she wouldn't be able to move if he collapsed onto her.

**OoO**

Lucius looked at his watch and frowned. They were all jarred out of their reverie when a truly satisfied sounding bellow erupted from behind the double doors down the hallway and around the corner.

Blaise paused mid-bite and looked at Draco, who was smirking.

"And he was worried about the flow of conversation," Charlie said, laughing.

 


	8. We got to talking

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

Two days later, after much thinking about Marcus and analyzing her feelings over what had happened, she resigned herself to spending time with Draco. Her goal was to know their minds, to understand their logic, to laugh with them; the carnal knowledge could come later.

She figured Draco would expect the same thing to happen with him that had happened with Marcus, but to make sure it didn't, she told him to meet her at a restaurant. They were to lunch and then go somewhere else… public. She had planned the whole day.

Hermione wanted to look nice for him, to have him see her as pretty, so she dressed carefully; in a sage green wrap dress with chocolate brown pumps. She left her hair down, only pulling back the front with a silver clasp Minerva McGonagall had given her upon her graduation from Pallas Athena University.

As she waited for her husband, the sun was bright and warm, and the breeze was soft and cool. It was a beautiful day. She turned her face up towards the sun, closing her eyes and feeling its nurturing heat on her cheeks.

That's how Draco and Blaise found her. She was standing straight, with her hair moving slightly with the breeze and a small smile playing around her lips. She was a vision and it made both men stop to admire their wife.

Draco thought it seemed like the sun shown just for her, sending a ray of light to her alone.

The scene was interrupted when the wind picked up, splitting her dress and revealing more leg than she intended.

"Oh!" she gasped pulling the dress closed and looking quickly around to see if anyone saw what happened. Her eyes stopped when she spotted two of her husbands instead of just the one.

Draco she could handle. Draco _and_ Blaise, she wasn't so sure.

Blaise smiled at her as he walked forward. "Hermione, I hope you don't mind that I've come along." There was no remorse in his tone or stature, nor did he offer her an explanation as to why he was there and not waiting his turn.

Her eyes shot to Draco's momentarily, before good manners kicked in. She offered her best welcoming smile. "Of course. The more the merrier," she said.

Blaise bowed to her and she turned to Draco, whose penetrating, lust-filled eyes had locked onto hers without shame. "Hermione," he said, bending to kiss her knuckles.

The second his lips touched her skin, electricity galloped through her body like a herd of wild horses.

Once Draco released her hand, the three stood there for a moment; two men watching her with a keen eye and just a touch of a smirk, and one witch bouncing her eyes back and forth between stormy gray and indigo blue. Hermione couldn't help but notice how beautiful these men were.

"Shall we?" Blaise asked, motioning to the door.

The restaurant's proprietor could see the three standing outside, and he'd heard that ' _The Hermione Granger'_ had married in a rather unconventional manner, but wasn't sure of the details.

His wife had been vague, having received her information fourth hand from a friend of a friend of a friend of the Minister's secretary, Blanche Goodwin.

He straightened when the three made a move to enter the establishment; _his_ establishment.

Hermione entered first, having to walk between Draco holding the door for her and Blaise guiding her with his warm hand to the small of her back. She was certain they were working in concert to unnerve her. They stood close enough, so the only path she could take was in between them and when she was close, they closed in. Hermione's chest brushed against Blaise's and her bottom slid across Draco's thighs.

Neither man had taken his eyes from her smaller form.

Hermione smiled at the proprietor. "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger and have a reservation," she said, coming to stand politely in front of the small podium, where the man stood.

He didn't need to read the list of names; he knew he would find hers there. He'd checked it several times just this morning to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

Hermione Granger, here, eating at his restaurant. He couldn't believe it.

"Miss Granger-" He was interrupted by the wizards accompanying her.

"Malfoy."

"Zabini."

Both wizards spoke at the same time, making Hermione scowl.

"Granger is fine. Thank you," Hermione corrected firmly.

The proprietor smiled at her and bowed. "Miss Granger, welcome to Oceanus. I am Adrastus." He leaned in towards her and whispered, "It means courageous."

She smiled at him. "It's nice to meet you, Adrastus."

Draco cleared his throat and pointedly looked towards the tables. Adrastus nodded. "Right this way," he said, ushering the three through the wards and into the dining room.

Draco moved passed Adrastus and Blaise to pull out Hermione's chair and seat her.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but the wait staff arrived at the table and provided their specials. When their server paused to hear their order, Draco and Blaise looked at Hermione. The heat in both sets caused her to blush, prompting her to recite to herself, _'Not going to have sex. Not going to have sex_.'

Blaise smirked as if he knew.

"What will you have, Hermione?" Blaise asked.

She snapped out of her mantra and looked at the patiently waiting server. "Water with lemon, and lobster ravioli."

The tall, young man smiled at her. "Good choice, Miss." He winked and her eyes widened a bit in surprise.

Blaise stiffened and Draco, not one to filter his irritation, asked, "Are you flirting with our wife?" The tone he used was a calculated mix between incredulousness and warning.

Draco and Blaise pierced the server with hard eyes.

"Wife? No," he hurriedly answered. "B-both of you are… I mean - may I take your order, sirs?" the server corrected immediately. This was Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. He had no right to question their situation.

They ordered and once again, were left alone to talk.

Draco and Blaise sensed her unease, and leaned in to comfort her, but her sudden action stopped them in their tracks. Hermione inhaled, interlaced her fingers and cracked her knuckles. Blowing a breath through loose lips, she wiggled her fingers and clasped them back on her lap.

The entire short routine had been done unconsciously and left them shocked. "Hermione, do you usually crack your knuckles?" Blaise asked, not believing his eyes.

She frowned. "No… where did that come from?"

"Marcus," the wizards said together.

Hermione gave them a strange look then giggled. Over the two days, while she mulled over her 'meeting' with Marcus, he had owled her and she him. She'd discovered that he was funny, but not one for long discussions in his physical presence. The sexual chemistry between them burned hot and whenever she thought of him, she wanted to feel him inside of her. They knew this because he'd come over for breakfast and they'd ended up baptizing her kitchen table. She'd then made him help her clean the entire kitchen afterwards. Owling each other was much more advantageous for getting to know one another, at least until the sexual appetite eased.

"Interesting isn't it?" she wondered aloud. "I mean, you perform a ritual expecting a mate for each of you, but instead you get one witch who shares each of your souls; and now I'm demonstrating characteristics from you." she shook her head. "I just find that strange. Why don't I see me in you? Have you felt any urges to save the world yet? To run into a burning building and pull screaming children to safety?" She paused in her monologue to look at their rather dazed expressions. "Well, have you?"

The two men shook their heads slowly. "What's wrong with you?" she asked with some amount of frustration at them not answering or, at least, participating in the 'conversation'.

"Theo," they said, again in unison.

Before she could respond, the food came and they ate in relative silence. Draco and Blaise and Draco weren't sure what to say, fearing that they would be seducing the feminine version of Theo.

Hermione was troubled. She'd felt almost removed from herself during the short periods of unusual traits and was fearful that she would eventually lose herself.

They sensed her concern, and in comfort, Draco rested a hand on her thigh. "All right, Hermione?" he asked.

"What if this keeps happening and one day I find that I'm no longer me, but all of you?" she whispered, her eyes burning from unshed tears. Hermione was leaning forward seeking comfort.

Blaise cast a _Notice-Me-Not_ charm around their small table in the corner and scooted forward, nodding to Draco.

The blond took Hermione's small wrist and pulled her onto his lap after he'd pushed back a small distance from the table.

Her nose immediately sought the smooth skin of his neck, just under his ear. He smelled delicious. Draco wrapped one arm around her back and settled the other hand on her thigh, squeezing in a soothing manner. "Hermione, you won't lose yourself. It's just your magic settling with ours." He really hoped what he was telling her was true, because he knew if it wasn't, her last action as Hermione Granger would be to hex him into oblivion.

The mood changed, he could feel it. Her palm slid up his chest and her tongue flicked to his ear lobe. Draco sent a look to his friend slash fellow husband and smiled at Blaise's cocked eyebrow.

Draco's hand traveled slowly up her thigh, underneath her dress, to her hip bone and back down to her lacy knickers. Draco knew lace when he felt it and hers were definitely lace.

Hermione blew a warm breath on his neck in response. "Draco," she whispered and nipped at his pulse point.

At that point, Blaise cast a stronger charm to keep them unnoticed and returned his focus to his wife and Draco.

Draco's thumb stroked down her lace covered slit, making Hermione shiver. "Take off your knickers, Hermione," he ordered.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. "We're in a-" She stopped when Blaise's head shook. "No one will notice, love. Now, do what your husband says and take off your knickers," Blaise told her.

She paused, but startled when Draco's thumb pressed hard on her clit. "I'll help you. Lift up," Draco said. There was no humor in their faces, only the expectation that their orders would be followed.

Her hips rose slightly and Draco gripped the material at the top and pulled them down over her thighs and knees and heel-clad feet. "Now, don't you feel better?" Blaise asked.

She didn't know how to answer. This was not something she would ever do, but here she was, in a restaurant, without knickers.

Draco tossed her knickers to Blaise. The dark wizard smelled them and then shoved them in his pocket.

"You seem a bit warm, Hermione," Draco said before he dipped his fingers in his water and pulled out a small piece of ice. She watched every movement of his hand as it lowered; water dripping onto her dress, his pant leg, the floor.

"What- what is that for, Draco?" she asked, her voice raspy.

"You, my love. It's for you," he said. "Now, open for me." She knew he wasn't talking about her mouth.

He was now in a slightly slouched position to give her room to part her thighs; she found herself complying with his demand and hissed as the ice was slid up her outer lips, around her clit and down to her entry. Draco pushed the melting ice into her along with his fingers. "You're so tight, love. Do you like this?" he asked slowly pumping is fingers in and out.

She could only nod.

Blaise had moved from his seat to hers and scooted closer to the two. He knew Draco was pleasuring her, but wouldn't allow enough friction to make her come yet, and Blaise could see her peaked nipples through the thin material of her bra and dress.

His long dark fingers slid over her shoulders and under her bra. He pulled out one of her breasts and gently tweaked the nipple.

That seemed to return coherent thought to her for a moment. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asked, almost pleading.

"Because we want you. You are our wife, Hermione. We want to spend the rest of our lives pushing the envelope with you, trying new things, making you scream, laugh and shout. I want to taste you, fuck you in every hole you have, shove my cock in your mouth and know that you love me for it.”

Draco's fingers were reaching deeper, pumping harder. Her hips were rocking slightly, and her knees were parted further. She was arching her back, pressing her breast into Blaise's hand.

They knew Draco's foul mouth was turning her on, and he planned to show her just how dirty he was.

"Someone will see…" Her voice trailed when she felt Blaise's teeth on her shoulder. "No, love, they won't. They aren't allowed to see you; you aren't theirs, you're ours," Blaise said, referring to the other diners.

Hermione could feel another set of fingers crawling up her hip and caressing her bum. Blaise.

Draco and Blaise's fingers met briefly between her legs. Just enough time for Blaise to wet his fingers with her essence and trail up to push against her unused passage. "No!" she exclaimed, stiffening.

Draco kissed her, and thumbed her clit with enough pressure to bring her up, but not over yet. It was effective in silencing her and relaxing her enough for Blaise to push a finger through the tight ring. Once past, he slid his finger inside to his knuckle and pulled out.

Hermione's sigh let them know that she was not in pain; on the contrary, she liked it.

Both men felt her walls flutter. She was close.

Her senses were in overdrive, preventing her from thinking anything. Warm hands on her sex, her bum, her breast, her thigh – hot breath on her shoulder and her neck; legs spread, in a restaurant and she was having a difficult time not screaming.

Blaise added another finger.

"This is-"

"It's not wrong!" Blaise interrupted. "Our wife, Hermione. Our _wife_!"

"I want to tie you up, spread your legs and let Blaisey fuck you in your arse while I kneel at your feet sucking on your clit. You will submit, Hermione," Draco commanded in a deceivingly soft voice full of tender emotion.

On that last note, he palmed her clit letting her come. "Oh yes…" she said before she imploded and she saw stars.

When she opened her eyes, Draco was watching her with a smile on his face. He set her back in her seat, as Blaise had returned to his seat, and lifted the charm. The sounds of utensils clanking against plates and the low rumble of other conversations permeated their small space.

The server arrived and noticed her flushed face and strange expression. The gentlemen looked smug, if anything.

"You haven't touched your meals. Was everything alright?"

Blaise answered as Draco had twirled a curl of Hermione's hair around his finger to set behind her ear.

"Yes, we just got to talking. We'll be a while longer."

 


	9. potions and a nap

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

Mortified. That was the only the word for it; mortification at her wanton behavior and complete disregard for public protocol. What was she thinking? She wasn't. She was feeling and urging and begging.

Hermione's mind traveled back to the rest of the 'lunch'.

They'd eaten in tense silence, waiting for the check to arrive then promptly stood and Disapparated on the spot. Blaise had taken her upper arm, as one would when they wanted to make sure the other followed.

They'd arrived in a Muggle flat in downtown London. Windows were lined on one full side of the large living area, where there shown a beautiful view of the Thames. The flat was pristine and Hermione wondered whose it was.

She had walked closer to the window and was standing admiring the scene in front of her when Blaise had come up behind her, untying her wrap dress and pushing it off her shoulders. His dark lean hands then made their way over her breasts, down her stomach and vee'd at the juncture of her thighs.

"Open," he'd whispered.

Still so hot with desire, she'd complied, spreading her legs shoulder width apart. Hermione felt him push between her shoulder blades so that she was bent over with her hands flat on the window. Her mind didn't raise any red flags at her completely exposed position.

Blaise had dropped to his knees, and buried his nose between the round globes of her bare bottom. Spreading them, he licked, penetrating the passage where his finger had previously occupied. "You taste so good, so pure," he murmured before pushing his tongue further into her.

Hermione was panting and moaning, spreading her legs farther apart hoping he would touch her aching center too. As if hearing her wishes, his fingers whispered up her thighs to her swollen lips. He traced them gently, tickling her.

She could hear his slurping of her back side and pushed her bottom into his face. He groaned his pleasure, gripping her hips roughly and pulled while pressing his face closer, making her squeak. His tongue was lapping from her slit, over her entry and up to her arse.

Suddenly, another presence shadowed her side. "Well, well, well, are you enjoying yourself?" Draco asked. His eyes darted to Blaise still partaking of what she had to offer.

Blaise added a finger at that moment, causing her to exhale. He was stretching her and pleasing her. She thought she would go mad.

"You're so swollen, Hermione." Draco's finger caressed her clit.

"Please!" she begged.

Blaise had stopped and stood. "Come, love," he'd said. She'd whined softly at the withdrawal of his tongue.

Blaise held her hand, walking in front of her, while Draco followed behind. They entered a Spartan room with a large four poster bed, and beautiful silks and linens covering it.

The walls were brick with chains and bolts and clasps hanging from various points. It looked like a renovated dungeon and that's when the first spark of uncertainty plagued her lust-hastened brain.

She must have paused because she felt Draco's chest against her back; his breath warm her ear. "Don't fret, love. We'll be gentle… until it's time to not be gentle."

Those words struck a chord down her back, into her toes and up in her sex. They were dangerous words; dirty words. They were words that promised a veritable broadening of Hermione's sexual horizons.

Hermione blinked, returning to the present. Lifting her neck, she caught sight of marks and slight bruising reflecting from the mirror. Her body was aching, her bum was sore, and her womanhood was raw.

She eased into the tub, sighing with relief. She had no idea how she would satisfy seven husbands. The way she felt now, she was seriously considering letting the rest of them go nutters.

Though… she looked at her wrists, the burns from the ropes were raised and red even though hours had gone by since they'd removed them. She been tied, spanked, and penetrated in every orifice she had; she felt oh-so thoroughly shagged.

Letting the warmth of the water surround her body, she knew what she had to do… at least in the near future; spend some time focusing on something other than her predicament.

(*)

The next morning after breakfast, Hermione was sweating in her potion's lab, counting drops from a vial of liquid mint for taste into her test potion for the cure for the common cold.

Muggle sicknesses rarely crossed into the wizarding communities, but when they did, they tended to have a more severe effect due to the lack of exposure to wizards and witches. There were no vaccines in the wizarding world.

With the increasing numbers of Muggle-borns entering wizarding society, the more the wizards were catching colds. It left them incapacitated for days, sometimes weeks.

If she was able to complete this successfully, she could market it to the Muggle world, too. There were liaison companies specifically run for the purposes of transitioning wizard potions into pharmaceuticals Muggles could employ.

A knock at the door interrupted her counting and she huffed in irritation.

Hermione waved her hand, dismantling the ward; the potion wasn't the right color anyway, she thought before she called, "Come in."

Severus ducked through the low doorway.

Hermione was bent over her notes, and he took a moment to admire her concentration… and her attire.

Her hair was pulled back in a low hanging pony tail, tendrils stuck to her cheek and temple from perspiration. The lab was warm, and he was concerned for a moment that she hadn't placed the proper ventilation in the small area. His concerns were eased a second later when he noticed the complex piping along the ceiling and walls.

She was shaking her head, mumbling to herself, scratching through notes.

Severus' eyes roamed the length of her body, her small, lean, lovely body. Hermione wore old cut-off denim shorts and her long legs ended with her feet encased in pink trainers.

He must have sighed or given some other signal to remind her of his presence, because she looked up and gave him a tight smile. "Hello."

"Hello. I-" Before he could continue, she launched into her frustration with the potion.

He watched her heave and rant; her chest rising with each breath, her snug tee shirt stretching taut across her breasts. He smirked upon reading the caption: _Chaos – Panic – Fear; my work here is done_.

Severus' reverie ended with the thrust of parchment in his face. "What is my problem?" she all but screamed at him.

He reared back a bit and gingerly took the near crumpled parchment from her shaking hand.

He recited the ingredients, frowning.

'Orange zest, menthol, a touch of Helleboro…' It all seemed in order. "Cure for the flu, Hermione?"

She nodded.

The next few hours were spent splicing, dicing, collaborating, measuring, re-measuring and arguing. Severus was so turned on, that he had been thanking the heavens for hours that his robes billowed, but this was too much.

Hermione was bent over in front of him, digging through the shelves, talking. He couldn't understand what she was saying, but her arse was wagging slightly and her leg muscles were tense.

Severus couldn't help himself; he walked forward, unbuttoning his trousers in the process.

Hermione stood just as Severus reached her and his trousers dropped to his ankles. He stood with wide eyes and knobby knees, wondering if she would laugh at him.

After a moment, Hermione tilted her head, because he was standing right in front of her not saying a word and looking like he swallowed a canary. "Severus?"

He swallowed.

Her eyes slowly made their way down his chest, to his midriff, and settled at his white boxers decorated with small, green snakes. Hermione's head snapped up to his face and back down to his boxers, his naked legs, and his trousers, which were pooled around his shoes. She mentally smirked at the fact that his socks were white. She never would have guessed.

"Severus, I-"

He lifted a hand to stay her rejection of him. He bent down with as much dignity as he could muster and took hold of his belt loops.

"Severus, wait. I was just surprised."

"No, I believe I've made enough of a fool of myself. Please accept my apologies for my behavior." He was rushing to button up his pants.

Hermione stepped away, allowing him to mentally breathe a sigh of relief, but when he stood straight again, she was standing, nude, giving him a shy smile and a shrug.

Severus really wasn't sure what to do. He rarely acted on impulse. Sure he'd had to make on-the-spot decisions, but his mind usually weighed the pros and cons and then chose a path, but not here and not a moment ago. No. The last thing his mind registered was her wagging bottom.

And now here she was, standing beautifully before him with her pink-tinted skin, which was quickly turning a darker shade as the seconds ticked by, her wild mane and her perfect breasts staring at him. In his mind, her breasts were begging him to cup his hands and cover them.

Hearing his thoughts ring clearly, and nearly feeling the warmth of him, she arched slightly, encouraging action.

Severus made a sound deep in his throat that resembled a mix between a growl and a pleading whine.

His body reacted immediately. He could feel his erection peak out through the slit in his boxers.

Hermione's eyes dropped to the protruding member. She licked her lips and leaned towards him. It was a subtle movement, but one he clearly noticed. It was all he needed to act. Severus launched forward, taking her shoulders in his large hands and crushing his lips with his.

Hermione returned his bruising kiss with ardor; lips, tongues, teeth, hot breath and rushed movement were the only sounds in the small lab. Severus had pushed her back into one of the tables, sending some ladles and vials crashing to the floor. Neither noticed, or if they did, they didn't seem to care.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck; she was on her tiptoes bouncing to keep their lips connected. Severus quickly tired of the loss of her mouth every few seconds and picked her up.

Angling his hips to align himself with her entry, he pushed forward.

He missed… twice, but on the third try, with a bit of assistance from her small hand guiding the way, he slid inside of her warm cocoon.

Blissful. That was the word his mind conjured.

After the initial pause of adjustment and sighs of contentment, he thrust heatedly, making them both moan. Hermione's words of encouragement: 'harder', 'yes', 'more', drove him faster until she stiffened and clamped down on his member.

It was too much for him and followed her into ecstasy, spilling himself until he couldn't breathe. They collapsed on the hard floor with muscle's shaking from fatigue and heavy breathing from satiation.

"Wow," she whispered between breaths. "That was…"

"Yes," he answered. Severus turned to her. "I'd like to do that again," he said.

Hermione saw the glint of humor in his eyes and smiled. "Oh, yes. We will be doing that again."

Severus inhaled. "But for now, a bath and-"

"A nap," Hermione finished.

Tightening her hold around his waist, she Apparated them to her bed. They forgot the shower, closing their eyes when their heads hit the pillows. With legs intertwined and cuddling in each other's arms, they slept the remainder of the afternoon.

 


	10. bath time conversation

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

He was so quiet. She didn't dare make a move lest he wake; she just knew he was an extremely light sleeper. Hermione kept her breathing even and ignored the itch forming on her eyebrow. She wanted to look at him.

Her eyes slowly roamed the sharp points of his face; if she hadn't felt the warmth from his breathing, she would've thought he wasn't breathing at all. He was very still.

He wasn't a physically handsome man, but his intellect and methodological manner called to her. She found him very appealing. The idea of getting to know this man was very exciting to her. He was dangerous and elusive and a virtual enigma and the fact that he'd risked his life for love made her want to smile. In her girly brain, down deep in the recesses of pink matter instead of gray, she squealed at the romance.

Her shoulder must have twitched at the mental squealing, because as she lifted her gaze from his full lips to his eyes, she met the dark abysses of Severus' awake.

"Good morning," she said. It wasn't chipper; she knew that would be too much for him. When he didn't respond, she lowered her gaze and bit her bottom lip with uncertainty.

A second later, her eyes shot up to his in surprise when his hand slowly made its way up her bare thigh and around to the curve of her arse, where it stopped to gently knead the flesh.

"Oh," she sighed and pushed forward with her hips.

His fingers curled around her thigh, bringing it up to rest on his hip, so he could pump forward closer to her center.

Before he moved, he whispered, "Let me in, little girl." He claimed her mouth and filled her in the same motion. She could only respond with a pleasured moan and an arch of her back.

It didn't take long for him to draw out her orgasm; his movements were slow and systematic. He watched every facial expression, felt every hitch of tension in her body, focused on every flutter of velvet walls surrounding his cock. "Keep your eyes closed," he'd said then proceeded to breathe on her and lick and touch her with feather light finger tips.

Her goose pimpled flesh was ultrasensitive when he started thrusting harder, making her fingernails pierce his flesh.

Hermione opened her eyes when he stopped and felt him pulling out. "What?" she asked worried she'd done something wrong, or that he was bored. "Do you want …a-another position?" Hermione thought it was a dumb question, but she wanted to please him as well as continue to be pleased by him (the latter was a very strong urge).

He looked at her for a moment without expression. "No, I want you under me. I want you to writhe and squirm for me." That was all he said before he lowered his head and she felt the bold fatness of his tongue on her sex, licking up and down, from her clit to her puckered passage and back up again.

Severus pushed her thighs farther apart and hmmmmed his pleasure when she bucked. He knew she was very close and he wanted to make sure he was inside of her again before she came, but he had wanted to smell and taste her before their time together ended; and it would end, he knew it would. He was competing against six other wizards, who were all more handsome and more refined than he was.

He pulled up and thrust, seating himself inside of her and sighing.

Hermione couldn't speak, he had pushed so fast and hard into her that it had rendered her speechless. Then he began thrusting, fast, hard, steady, never looking away, fighting to breath, barely making a sound, encouraging the pressure.

Hermione felt it too. "Oh yes, Severus!" she said before she closed her eyes, arched and buried her head to the side in her pillow.

Severus watched her face in its rapture, but was unable to see clearly when her passage squeezed his cock like a vise and forcibly sucked his essence from his body.

They lay there still connected, panting, and sweating. When their breathing returned to normal, Severus rolled over taking her with him. Hermione could feel his prominent nose buried in her hair. "What is appropriate post-coitus conversation?" he asked.

It was a funny question that made her giggle. The question was distinctly Severus.

He was waiting.

Hermione turned in his arms to face him and smiled at his rather curious expression. "Have you never stayed long enough to cuddle with a witch?" she asked.

It took a moment for him to answer. "No."

The mood turned serious and she stretched up to kiss his lips. Softly, tentatively, her lips touched his and she could smell her scent on his skin. Hovering, she kissed him again.

Severus watched as she neared him, smelling herself on him and kissing him again. He opened his mouth a bit and sucked her lower lip, all the time watching her. He smiled when she'd had her fill of kissing him as if he were a brave new world to discover. He figured it was just her getting over the fact that her former professor was now her husband whom she could molest as often she saw fit.

"So, sex is an appropriate discussion point, then." He looked at her, waiting for an answer. Hermione shrugged.

She was lying on her back with the sheet covering just over her breasts. Severus didn't like that, so he pulled the sheet gently away from her breasts to reveal her rosy nipples.

"How many lovers have you had, Hermione?" he asked running his fingertips over her nipples.

Hermione swallowed. "Before we were… married?"

Severus lowered his head, mouth open, to her nipple. "Mmmmm-hmmm," he said, suckling.

Hermione started to breathe deeply to help concentrate on the question. "One."

He took her other nipple in between his fore finger and thumb, pulling and pinching, making her gasp. "Who?"

She didn't answer right away; and when he decided he didn't want to wait anymore, he gave a sharp nip to her nipple. It made her yelp and then sigh as he soothed the pain with his tongue.

"Kingsley."

"And then?"

His ministrations continued and expanded down to her navel and into her womanhood. When she finally answered him, he was happily slurping between her legs and all she could see of his face was his head moving, and his nose and forehead occasionally. It was heaven.

"Charlie."

Severus pinched her to continue after a few minutes of her enjoying his feast. "Marcus, and then Draco and Blaise."

"Together," he asked raising his head slightly. She pushed it back down to her mons and said, "Ah ha."

"How many women have you… done this to?" she asked bucking slowly, wanting him to consume her.

"Aside from you?"

"Yes."

"None."

She came at that moment and he drank every drop.

"You're a natural," she teased.

He didn't smile or look at her with humor; he merely spread her legs and pushed himself inside of her.

After savoring the feel of her, he opened his eyes and looked down at her. "I never wanted to pleasure a witch. I had a need to fill and I usually paid for it. There were no soft feelings or happy moments. You, Hermione, are the only one I will ever do this with." He paused then pulled out, pushing back in with force.

Hermione cried out, but clung to his forearms urging him to go again.

After she had come twice more, he pumped shallowly and lay on top of her, kissing her passionately. She felt him stiffen and the warmth of his seed flow out of her when he climaxed.

An hour later, Hermione couldn't stand it anymore. "I need a bath. Would you join me?"

Again he paused and then nodded.

While she washed his hair gently massaging his scalp, they talked. "How old were you when you lost your virginity?" she asked.

He hadn't made a move, but she felt the mood shift and could sense anxiety. "No judgment here, Severus."

"Fifteen."

Hermione was going to need more information. "Who?" Severus tensed and Hermione's hands slid down his neck to his shoulders and started to knead.

"Lucius."

Her kneading stopped. After what seemed like a lifetime of silence, he turned slowly, not wanting to see the disgust on her face, but what he saw was unadulterated desire complete with the far away stare and slight smile playing around her lips.

He smirked at her. "Hermione."

She blinked and looked at him with a blush. "Right. Sorry. Ummm, how was it?"

Severus looked at her strangely and she answered what she thought was his question. "We're married now. We can ask each other anything. No secrets." It was such a casual but genuine statement that its unintended force knocked the wind from him. He recovered quickly and didn't let his surprise at her openness show through, though it warmed his heart.

"It was …good."

The massaging started again with vigor indicating she was excited about the information she was getting. "Was he gentle?"

"At first."

"Was he a virgin, too?"

"Ah, no. Lucius hasn't been a virgin since he was prepubescent."

"Do you like women or men better?"

"Women."

"You paid for women; did you pay for men too?"

"No."

"Was there anyone special?" she asked.

His silence gave her her answer. "Were they affairs or flings?" she asked now knowing that he and other Death Eaters 'co-mingled'.

"What's a fling?" he asked.

"A short romance, but with more sex than romance. Perhaps over a summer?"

"It was never more than a few hours."

Silence descended and her kneading became slow. "Hermione, what are you thinking?"

Her hands reached his head. "We need to rinse your hair," she said avoiding the question. She gently pushed his head down, making him nearly lie on his back and keeping his face above water while she swirled his hair around in the water between them, rinsing it.

He felt like a kid, but let her fidget until she was ready.

Severus swapped places with her and massaged her shoulders. "What are you thinking?"

"What kinds of things did you do?" Her question was quiet as if she was embarrassed, but her curiosity was too strong to inhibit.

"What kinds of things do you think we did?"

"Severus!" she hissed not wanting to play games, but he wasn't playing games. He wanted to hear her pretty little mouth emit filthy little words.

"I'm not playing," he whispered in his deep velvety voice. "Tell me what things we did."

He couldn't believe he was having this discussion with her. He felt like a teenager, eager and randy. He had a semi-erection, and he was certain the minute her bow shaped mouth uttered the word: cock; he would be hard as a rock.

"Well," she cleared her throat, "men aren't like women, so I would think you could dispense with the dinner and a movie part."

Severus smirked. He knew she was putting forth an effort to think logically about something that was rather illogical. It was primal, sexual, and yes, emotional.

Hermione frowned. "Men are at times more linear thinkers; perhaps conversation would provoke sexual attraction. Or, in your case, it's been proven that sex and violence are experienced in the same part of the brain, so it would be a natural inclination that after conversing and torturing; drinking and sex would be the next logical step."

She turned her head to look at him. "Kissing?" she asked.

Severus shrugged.

"Touching?"

Severus nodded.

"Hurried removal of clothes; wanking?"

Severus grunted in humor at her phrasing then nodded.

"Have you ever used your mouth…?"

He nodded. "Have you?" he asked.

Hermione's eyes darted around. "No."

This surprised him, but he didn't reveal any expression. He didn't want to embarrass her. "I've heard men like women to relax their throats. Is that true?" she wondered.

"It feels similarly to traditional sex, but it's the idea that oral satisfaction is …dirty, for lack of a better term, which makes the experience more intense." Severus quieted for a moment, letting her ponder what he'd said.

"And when the throat contracts, it does elicit a pleasurable sensation."

She smiled at him. "I'd like to try it," she whispered then smiled shyly. "Maybe another time."

He nodded, mildly thankful she wasn't ready to do that at the moment. He was tired.

 


	11. Lucius

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

The next couple of days had Hermione frowning in thought. She went about her days on semi auto-pilot, making her rounds, visiting her patients, and smiling at her floor's Medi-witches and fellow Healers.

She'd never given oral sex.

Severus had asked the question, but they'd been so tired that neither had elaborated. She woke with the familiar craving to learn; and had been walking around with the feeling for three days, though she hadn't picked up a book or, Merlin forbid, _asked_ anyone.

Hermione had returned to work with more carnal knowledge than she'd ever had and still hadn't the opportunity to please any of her husband's that way.

_Gods, how hard could it be?_ She asked herself then winced when she recalled Ron telling Harry, thinking Hermione was sleeping, of the rather painful experience of Lavender's first time. She'd bitten him, gagged a few times, slobbered all over his thighs, then promptly tossed her cookies on his stomach after he'd come; given, Ron had been too late in informing the blonde witch of his impending climax, but still.

Hermione felt like she didn't have the opportunity. All of her husband's so far were take-charge type men and she didn't see Lucius being any different, though she may have a chance with Theo. Hermione giggled at herself. She had seven husbands, surely she could talk at least one of them into giving her a few pointers and allowing her practice time.

Speaking of…

Lucius.

What was she going to do? She knew they needed to consummate soon or they'd go mad, but it just seemed that each time she'd been with one, or two of them, there was hardly any talk.

It had been four days, and she could feel the pull.

"Healer Granger, exam room four, please." It was a young Medi-wizard in training. The hospital assigned them to reception and placement their first few months. The hospitals and schools, normally dominated by witches, were quickly filling with wizards. Hermione looked around, she and two others were the only feminine Healers on shift in the entire hospital.

Hermione nodded and as she opened the door, she pasted a smile on her face and read the patient's file. "Good morning. I'm Healer Granger," she looked up and stopped smiling.

There, sitting on the examination table, was her husband, Lucius Malfoy.

"Hello, Healer Granger. You've been avoiding me."

Lying was futile. "Not just you."

His eyebrows raised a fraction. "You don't deny it?"

"What's the point?" she asked meeting his eyes and squaring her shoulder. She would not be intimidated.

Lucius smirked. "Why?" he knew why, but he wanted to hear it from her.

As the Gryffindor courage drained from her body at this very important question, she looked away from him and shrugged her shoulder.

"Hermione?" he urged.

She pursed her lips. "It's complicated," she said.

He nodded once. "I see."

Hermione looked up with a hopeful expression. "Do you?"

"No." He chuckled at her fallen expression. "I'm joking. Of course I understand."

Hermione frowned and shook her head a moment then frowned again and tilted her head all the while looking at him.

Sighing, Lucius said, "I have a sense of humor, Hermione. It's just not often I draw upon it. You're my wife and I'm your husband. I understand your discomfort at now having a multitude of personalities and libido's to deal with, but we'll just have to treat this as normal, and move on."

Hermione blushed when he mentioned libidos and he realized that Hermione being Hermione, she probably wouldn't have fallen under the 'loose witch' category.

"You're not embarrassed, are you?" he asked.

Hermione's blush deepened and she shifted feet.

Lucius didn't know what to say, so he waited and watched. Her fists clenched and unclenched, her head shook occasionally, indicating she was arguing with herself, and she chewed viciously on her lower lip, before she spoke; blurted was more of what occurred, but he wouldn't split hairs.

"Can I give you a blow job?" It was out before she could rethink the request.

Lucius stopped breathing and waited for her to retract that particular question, but after a second – and it was only a second – he made quick work of unbuttoning his trousers and sliding down the table.

"Wait… I need, um, I –would you… help me?" the last two words were said with her eyes closed and it dawned on him that he would be her first. Flashes of Narcissa's first time zipped through his mind and he schooled his features to prevent cringing at a witch's initiation to the world of oral pleasure.

With that thought, his ardor eased a bit and he waited for her to open her eyes and seek his answer.

When she didn't hear the jingle of his belt or the deep tones of his voice verbally agreeing to guide her, she opened her eyes. "Lucius?"

He nodded and smiled at her. "No biting." A giggle erupted in her throat, making him chuckle. It was a rich tone that glided over Hermione's skin like silk. She nodded and inched forward, biting her lip.

"Perhaps, we should have dinner," Lucius suggested becoming slightly alarmed when she whispered a locking spell without her wand or waving a hand. He could feel the magic shift in the room and knew she'd been successful.

Hermione shook her head and continued to slowly move forward, chewing her lip, and watching him through her eye lashes.

"Hermione…"

"Shhhh," she said placing a small finger over his lips, before stepping in between his legs.

This was different for him. Women liked him to take control and be the Alpha, but this witch, _his_ witch, was calling the shots. He found that he was strangely comfortable with that.

Lifting her face, she leaned forward to kiss him.

Her lips were hot and soft and her touch was tentative. Lucius didn't want to push her; instead he decided to let her take what she wanted. He kissed her back, slowly, surely, not introducing his tongue until hers danced across his bottom lip. Soon, he'd slid to the edge of the table, Hermione between his legs, his erection pressing into her stomach, tongues twisting and turning, sliding and curling around each other.

Her fingers were playing with the wrinkles in his shirt, cautiously untucking. Sighing through their noses, they continued kissing languidly, enjoying every moment of their unity. Lucius' large hands were squeezing the flesh of her bum, pulling her closer to his cock.

Finally, the pads of her fingers made contact with the bare skin of his stomach. Ripples of muscle were traced and caressed until she flattened her palms and slid them under his waistband, carding her fingers through the soft and neatly trimmed flaxen hair that surrounded his genitals.

Lucius jerked when her hands wrapped around the base of his cock. He grunted as she stroked the shaft.

Hermione's lips left his and traveled down his chin, to his jaw, and across his neck and clavicle. She had released him from his containment and was now actively stroking him; up and down, around.

His breathing was heavy and his grip on her hips was tight. Hermione watched his face for a few moments. His lips were parted; his skin was flush with a thin sheen of sweat over his cheeks and forehead. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back slightly.

Once her perusal of his appearance was complete, her eyes drifted to his member. It was long and thick, and curved to the left a bit. It was beautiful and it was leaking. The shiny substance on the mushroomed head provoked her to lick her lips in anticipation.

Bending down and opening her mouth, her tongue dabbed at the liquid. Her hands continued their ministrations, but when the wetness of her tongue made contact, he moaned his pleasure and whispered an urgent, 'please.'

That one word, uttered so desperately, had her clenching and unclenching her sex.

At that moment, she parted her lips once again and took in the cap of his cock; sucking gently. His taste was intoxicating, musky and masculine with a strong scent of his springy soap, giving him a clean smell.

Lucius went still. He'd had hundreds of blow jobs throughout his life, but this one, by this woman, was his undoing. She was a natural, sucking and nipping, stroking and licking. She couldn't fit him in her mouth in his entirety, but she used her hands to add to his pleasure.

He was going to come.

The more he watched her and felt her and imagined her, the more he wanted to come inside of her, to fill her with his seed, to mark her as his own.

Hermione felt him stiffen, and paw at her hair. She felt his cock swell and heard Lucius murmur something about her stopping, but she wanted to taste it. To have the knowledge that what she did made him reach his climax.

She wasn't just participating while he did the work, she was driving. Her feminine pride swelled when he grunted once more and his grip in her hair tightened a bit. A second later she felt warm, wet spurts of liquid burst from his cock.

It was an interesting feeling, his seed shooting to the back of her mouth. She swallowed to prevent it pooling. When it stopped and he relaxed his fisted hand, she licked once more around his tip and pulled up, meeting his eyes.

Lucius couldn't see, stars were floating behind his eye lids and he was currently trying to regain composure by taking deep breaths. It was incredible. The idea that he was her first, that the courageous, insolent Gryffindor known for her convictions and loyalty, put her pretty little mouth on his cock. He had tried to stop her, so that he could come inside of her pussy, but she hadn't let up.

She was looking at him with wide eyes seeking approval. Not one to out and out give compliments, he decided to show her how pleased he was with her. Though, her demonstration of control had him rethinking his method. Pulling her closer as he leaned back onto the table, he told her, "Ride me. I need more of you."

Smiling, she climbed onto the table to straddle him. He was not yet hard again and when she looked up in question, he said, "up here, sweeting."

Hermione's heart pumped a little faster as she inched her way up over his now bare chest.

Lucius relished the feel of her uncovered legs spread wide over him, of her wet cunt leaving a trail of desire. He couldn't wait to taste her. To have her sweet pink pussy mask his face. To kiss her nether lips as if they were her mouth.

Finally reaching her destination, she lowered herself slowly, not wishing to suffocate him, but he was having none of it. Lucius pulled her thighs down so abruptly that she fell back, landing her hands flat on his chest.

Her head dropped back at the feel of his strong fingers pulling her apart to reveal the swollen bead aching to be attended to.

Lucius pulled her even closer, spreading her thighs farther apart. Her sweet smelling sex was just there. He shifted again and she was on him. He didn't need to lift his head, only open his mouth and taste the succulent flesh of her womanhood. Delving inside the folds of her labia, up the center of her slit, around her clit and inside of her channel, he pushed and tasted and licked and curled his tongue this way and that. Soon her hips were rocking and she was making the most delicious mewling sounds.

He needed to feel her, to consummate their marriage. Upon her declaration of his talent as she climaxed, he swiftly picked her up with strong arms and impaled her mid-orgasm onto his very hard cock.

Hermione couldn't breathe, the feeling of him stretching her, filling her still pulsing walls knocked the wind from her.

"Fuck me, Hermione," he ordered.

And she did, rolling her hips, lifting her feet onto the table and squatting over him to feel him slide in and out of her. She spread her knees wide, opening herself up to his view.

His stomach tightened and he lifted up. "So beautiful," he said and pushed her knees farther apart. His finger slid down her inner thigh to her cunt. Pushing and pinching her clit, he felt her walls flutter and her body shutter. So tight was her cunt during her orgasm that he felt his essence sucked from his body and into hers.

Right before she dropped off into the dream land to meet Morpheus, a knock at the door prevented complete submission and instead, startled both husband and wife.

"Healer Granger? We have an emergency!" The faceless voice shouted urgently from outside the door.

Hermione hopped off of her husband and smiled. "I'll see you later." She kissed him and turned to open the door.

Before she was out of sight, she popped her head back in and said, "Lucius? Thank you."

Lucius smiled. "You're very welcome, sweeting."

 


	12. Punishment?

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.** _

_The Daily Prophet_

_Weekly Article by Collin Creevy_

**_The Cheeky Chinwag_ **

Normally, I would try to avoid the hen house gossip and focus on more important items like the progress of _The Baby Chronicles_ … Oh, who am I kidding, I love this stuff!

This week, the hens in the Ministry are talking about the rather unusual circumstance in which Hermione Granger finds herself.

Yes, you read that correctly: Hermione Granger; _THE_ Hermione Granger; one-third of the Golden Trio, a.k.a. Gryffindor's Princess, a.k.a. Insufferable Know-It-All.

The soon-to-be twenty-seven year old witch is now married to seven, yes, seven wizards. It was told to me, by a reliable Ministry source, who shall remain nameless, that the wizards in question performed a ritual, blood magic, long thought to be lost to history; **The Calling**.

Instead of 'Calling' a mate for each wizard, the spell beckoned one famous Muggle-born witch, well-known for her staunch convictions, heroic acts of loyalty, and once bushy-hair.

In order of intimidating presence, her husband's are as follows: Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Marcus Flint, Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott and last, but not least, the only Gryffindor in the bunch, Charlie Weasley.

…

"Blimey, Harry! Draco Malfoy?" Ron exclaimed.

Harry turned his head and wondered at his friend. "Of all the names listed, you're worried about Draco?"

"Why didn't she say something to us?" Ron asked, though, it was more of a rhetorical question – even though, he probably didn't know what rhetorical meant.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Because she hasn't said anything to us in two years, why would this be any different?"

Ron shrugged like he normally did when he didn't have an answer.

"Should we owl her?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged again and took another bite of his bangers and mash.

Harry shook his head and made a mental note to owl her. He'd begun to regret his behavior long ago and was just too ashamed to apologize, but it was time. He'd left it too long.

Ron spoke again, jarring Harry out of his thought process. "Charlie didn't say a thing. Mum's prolly round the bend!"

Harry snorted and nodded. No doubt about that, Molly had disliked Hermione since fourth year; only tolerating the Muggle-born because of her value to the Order.

Ron shoved the rest of the food into his mouth, making Harry grimace. "'E ca' have 'er." The ill-mannered redhead pointed to the picture of Hermione that was posted at the bottom of the article.

Harry thought it was sixth year and she was scowling; probably at having her picture taken, he thought. Harry tilted his head looking at the picture closely. Hermione had been pretty even then, why hadn't they noticed?

The picture repeated her walking then turning to face the camera, with large wooden double doors in front of her. Harry recognized it as the entry to the library. She'd been entering the library and Collin had most likely called her name to take her picture.

He smirked. Her hair was coming loose from its hasty bun and her wand was stuck holding it in place. Her robe sleeves were pushed up to her forearms, her tie was crooked and the top button of her blouse was undone. Her book bag was slung over a shoulder.

"You don't think she was pretty?" Harry asked his friend.

Ron swallowed and gulped down his pumpkin juice before peering at the picture again. He narrowed his eyes at the Savior of the Wizarding World and asked, "Are you barmey, Harry?" Making wild motions around his head, he said, "All that hair, and bossy, called me a baby." Ron shook his head. "No way, mate."

Before Harry could respond, a deep voice accompanied by a large, dark shadow moved to their table. "You are a baby and all that hair is beautiful."

Harry smiled and stood. "Charlie. How are you, Mate?"

They shook hands and Harry nodded to the large, frowning wizard standing just off to the side.

Ron snorted. "She's still bossy."

The frowning wizard stepped forward. "Some wizards like bossy."

Charlie smiled to ease the tension between Marcus and his little brother. "Gentlemen, no need to argue. We just came by to say hello. So, hello."

"And goodbye," Marcus added.

"Why the rush? Did she set your wands to vibrate when you strayed too far from home?" Ron laughed.

Marcus stopped walking mid step and Charlie groaned. His brother never knew when to just shut his mouth.

As Marcus went to do whatever he was going to do to Ron, Charlie intervened by placing a solid hand on the larger wizard's shoulder. "Let me. We are family after all. I have more pent up frustration," Charlie said.

Marcus' face twitched in concession. Inhaling, the imposing wizard stepped back and motioned for Charlie to get on with it.

**_(*) Last chapters of the article._ **

Though, I haven't spoken to Hermione, I do remember her rather vividly from Hogwarts. I remember her yelling and threatening and hexing, so to her new husbands, I say; Good Luck, and try not to make her angry.

…

Hermione was pacing back and forth, wondering why everyone thought she was such a pill. She was determined, yes. Persistent, assertive and confident. Nothing wrong with those attributes. She respected anyone that demonstrated them, so why was she villainized for them?

Draco and Blaise watched her pace. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was reminiscent of Marcus' pacing when Hermione had left before speaking to him. The only reason they were there was because they could feel how angry she was, and it seemed that she was getting angrier by the minute, though they couldn't understand why.

Draco couldn't care less what was printed about him, or anyone he knew in the papers. It was all rubbish any way; everyone knew that, especially his wife.

"Hermione," he tried. It was softly spoken, but instead of having the soothing effect he'd intended, she whipped around and pointed her small stiff finger at him. "Don't you 'Hermione' me, Draco Malfoy!"

She paused for good measure then went back to pacing.

Draco stood and was ready to share his thoughts on her directing her anger for someone or something else onto him, but he was interrupted by Blaise. "I think she needs to be fucked; good and hard."

Those words were calmly spoken by an aloof wizard with shocking blue eyes against a dark skinned face. Both Draco and Hermione stopped to look at him, one with an agreeable smirk and the other looking like a fish out of water.

Draco turned to face her and smiled. "Yes, I think you're right, Blaise. Perhaps, we should teach her how to speak to us."

This time Blaise smiled. It was predatory and leering and sent a thrill down her spine.

The beautiful dark wizard stood casually, gracefully, and both men advanced on her. Instinct made her take a few short steps back, but it was too late.

Grabbing her roughly, they Disapparated with a pop.

(*)

Charlie and Marcus walked in with satisfied smiles on their slightly swollen faces. Marcus had a bloody lip and his cheek was bruised. Charlie was sporting a darkened eye and possibly a broken nose. Both men were still feeling the rush of pure testosterone.

It was terrible fun. They would no doubt have to pay damages to the café for tables broken and dishware strewn everywhere, especially when the other diners, who happened to be wizards, got involved, but it was worth it. A good time was had by all.

Charlie had saluted Ron in goodbye as Harry left smiling and clamping a friendly hand on Ron's shoulder. Ron smiled in return before they Disapparated.

Charlie and Marcus had gone shortly thereafter amidst diners and passersby having it out.

Marcus was still chuckling.

Charlie walked to the large windows of the flat and looked out. Marcus tossed a bag of frozen peas at him and he promptly placed them on his eye.

They both turned when they heard a yelp from 'the room'.

Marcus walked to the door and whispered the spell to unlock it. Opening it gently, he peered inside.

What graced his vision hardened his cock immediately.

Hermione was strapped to the spanking bench, bent over, naked, with her bum rosy from her punishment. Her legs were splayed and buckled to the joists of the bench.

He could see her puffy lips and the glisten of her arousal.

It was warm in the room, and both Draco and Blaise had their shirts off. Draco's chest was rising and falling quicker than Blaise's. He must have been the one to spank her.

Hermione was sniffling, but clearly, she loved what they were doing.

Marcus abandoned whatever thought he'd had and strode to where she was. Blaise just smirked. "She was rude to Draco earlier. We thought she needed corrective behavior."

Marcus didn't comment as he caressed the rosy globes of her bum. Her skin was hot.

"Is this right, Hermione, were you rude?" he asked. His finger was tracing circles closer and closer to her sex. He could see her clench in response, but she didn't respond verbally.

He bent over her and whispered in her ear. "You haven't learned your lesson, Princess?"

No answer.

Marcus lifted up and spanked her. Hard. So hard that not only did she scream, Draco and Blaise both jerked.

Lifting his stinging hand to once again caress the hot flesh, he asked her again. "Were you rude, Hermione?"

"Y-yes," she hiccupped.

"Yes, what?" Blaise prompted.

"Sir," she squeaked.

As reward, Marcus slid his finger inside of her wet channel and curled it. His thumb only grazed her clit, which had her begging. "Please. Please, I want to come."

"Not just yet, Princess. I want to watch." Marcus looked at Blaise and moved to sit down in one of the chairs in the corners of the room. They were stationed there for just this purpose; to allow for an audience.

Marcus may have been shy, but in this room, he could give in to his baser nature. He never hurt or harmed, only took what was freely given.

Charlie had plopped down on another chair and inhaled. "It seems we have ourselves a submissive, gentlemen. What a wonderful surprise," he said.

Charlie had only been in this room once before during his short association with these wizards. Flint, Malfoy and Zabini had split the cost and purchased it. The last time he'd been here, he'd accidently walked in on Pucey and his boy toy in flagrante. Charlie still couldn't get that visual out of his mind. He'd been so plagued by it that he'd entertained the idea of an Obliviate. Even gone so far as to ask Lucius for help. The elder had laughed and walked away shaking his head.

Hermione's deep breaths drew his eyes back to her.

Blaise was behind her cooing comfortingly and pushing his large cock in her arse. Charlie could hear the deep tones of Blaise murmuring to her, but couldn't make out what exactly he was saying. With each word, Blaise would pull out then push back in a little deeper, causing Hermione to keen with both pleasure and pain.

(*)

"Deep breaths, baby," Blaise said pushing into her.

"O-okay," she whispered, closing her eyes. He pushed deeper.

She felt his hands spread open the globes of her bottom and pull out slightly. "Feel good, Hermione?" he asked now gripping her hips.

"Yeess." Her words were breathy and lustful.

"Relax. I coming in," he said preparing her for him to be fully seated.

One last retreat then he surged forward sinking deeply within her. She let out a small gasp filled yelp and Blaise grunted with satisfaction.

"Don't let her rest, Blaise, make her feel it." It was Marcus and he was straining against his trousers. His periphery caught Charlie's up and down motion of his hand stroking his erection.

Blaise was now thrusting steadily, the sweat on his back made his dark skin shine under the dim light.

With every thrust, Hermione was offering an intoxicating feminine moan and it was getting louder with the increase of Blaise's speed. Soon, after she had fully relaxed and was enjoying the heightened sensitivity, he pistoned in and out of her. The air was so thick with their anticipated climax that each had to regulate his breathing to keep from joining them.

Draco was so turned on that his stepped in front of his wife and let her lips taste the pre-cum from the tip of his cock. She licked hungrily and sucked his shaft while Blaise pumped from the back.

"Hermione, I'm… soon, baby. So sweet. Sweet, sweet heaven… you feel-" Blaise was trying to form a sentence but the feeling of his cock inside of her arse rendered him incoherent.

The flutter of her channel in response to his stream of consciousness provoked his orgasm with an unexpected shout of appreciation for her. Draco came with a grunt on her chin and bottom lip. He looked at the mess on her face and bent to kiss her to which she responded passionately.

Hermione had no energy to hold herself up; her legs buckled and her chest pressed harder into the plane of the bench. She hiccupped and felt the tears still flowing freely. Her bum was hot and throbbing, and her center ached.

"I think she's done," Hermione heard Charlie say.

Blaise had pulled out and was no longer standing near her.

She felt a presence and sensed Marcus. His large, calloused palm smoothed the skin of her hip. His hand was so warm it raised gooseflesh in its wake. "One more time, Princess? Just once more," he cooed, aligning himself with her entry.

Sniffling, Hermione made a mewling sound, though it was not certain if it were acquiescence or resistance.

Marcus' gentle nature wouldn't let him push any farther in than the head of his cock, before he molded his body to hers and whispered in her ear. "Princess?"

Hermione was panting and weakly pushing her weight back up on her legs. Her bottom was moving slowly. "Yes, Marcus." It was faintly said, but it was enough.

Marcus surged forward burying himself inside of her. She was wet and hot, and her velvet walls were quivering around him. Draco immediately slid underneath her spread legs to lick at her pussy.   She was so swollen, he knew it wouldn’t take long.

Marcus pumped twice and was already feeling the pressure in his belly. His balls tightened and he gripped her hips. "Hermione," he grunted.

Draco gently sucked her clit, letting his tongue flick it back and forth. The effect was instant. She clamped down on him and the pulsing around him sucked his essence from him.

If she thought she didn't have energy before, she really didn't have energy now. Hermione felt her husbands unbuckle her then carry her to the bed. The whole walk Draco whispered encouragement about how good she did and how proud they are of her, but it was when they all kissed her and covered her up that she realized that they were planning to leave her. She didn't want them to leave, she wanted them to soothe her bottom and give her some tender loving care, but instead, they were leaving.

She sat up and felt another round of tears coming, but before she could speak, Blaise stopped her by sitting next to her on the bed. "Theo. You need him for this."

That seemed to ease her concern. Blaise understood, but Theo was getting a little wonky and his magic was off. Hermione and he needed to consummate.

 


	13. Theo

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

Theo felt her distress, her ire, her …need. Apparating to the living area, he looked around and frowned at his shame-faced fellow husbands. "What did you do?" he accused.

Blaise stepped forward with a knowing expression. It assured Theo that she wasn't hurt without her consent, but perhaps they weren't as attentive as they should have been. "We left her for you," Blaise said quietly then left the flat.

The large men made way for Theo to walk slowly into 'the room'. The closer he got the more intense the feelings of need were.

Theo half turned to face Draco before he walked in and clicked the door shut behind him. "Hermione?" he whispered. It was cool, but not cold. It smelled of …her, and sweat from one or many of her husbands.

"Here," she responded, her voice barely a whisper. She was small in the large bed, and naked.

When he neared her, he pulled the covers down to reveal her rosy skin. Hermione didn't try to stop him. "They didn't heal you?" he asked looking her over, anger reddening his cheeks.

She shook her head. He watched as tears formed in her eyes and her bottom lip trembled. She wasn't the crying type, but sometimes after a session, one got emotional; he knew. It'd happened enough times with him. He was certain, by the state of her bum, that she was a submissive.

Theo looked into her eyes. He was also fairly positive that she had just today realized this fact.

"Turn over, love," he said making a circle motion with his finger.

She did without complaint, only a sniffle. He placed a pillow under her hips to prop her bottom upwards, so he could soothe her.

Whispering a spell, his hands filled with warm oil that he began to rub gently onto her backside. Hermione sighed and sniffled and hiccupped occasionally still reeling from the events of the day.

The motion of his hands, the gentle squeeze of his fingers, his presence all contributed to her growing discomfort. Even after everything that happened today, she wanted him. She wished he would spread her legs and push inside of her. She wished he would pull her head back and kiss her. She wanted him to cup her breasts and feel her nipples.

Her line of thought was interrupted by a groan. "Hermione, I can hear you."

"Sorry," she squeaked and buried her face in her pillow.

Theo continued to massage her back, her shoulders, running strong hands down her sides feeling the curve of her breast. He placed himself half on half off the bed and rubbed the firm globes of her cheeks, opening them to reveal the rosebud he longed to taste. He looked further down and saw the glisten between her legs, the puffy lips begging him to separate.

"Please, Theo?" she asked.

He swallowed unsure of what he should do. "I-I can't," he choked out.

Hermione's mind was not thinking clearly, her logic was not actively participating and all she heard was him not wanting her and his rejection coupled with her shame for asking him, turned to anger and a need for him to stop touching her.

She violently slapped his hands away and wiggled to the center of the bed, angry tears in her eyes and red faced. "Go away then."

"Hermione, please."

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. She was the one person in the whole world he could be honest with. She was his wife and even when she hadn't been, she'd been trustworthy. "I've never…"

Her head snapped up. "You've never…? What? Been with a Muggleborn?" She cried assuming the worst.

Theo growled his discontent and tried again.

"I've never **_been_** with anyone…"

His confession left her confused and more ashamed at her reaction than she had been. "You're a-"

He put his hand up. "Don't say it!"

To regain some modicum of masculine pride, he added, "I've pleased women, been intimate with them, but I've just never… sealed the deal so to speak."

His phrasing made her smile and she patted the space next to her. Relieved, he shook off his clothing, all except his boxers, and crawled in beside his wife.

Hermione's eyes inadvertently dropped to between his legs where she saw the slight bulge.

"Hermione?" Theo asked with a smirk on his face.

She blushed and pulled the covers over her body. Obviously, she wasn't a maiden for the taking; a blushing bride if you will, but with him a virgin, she didn't want to seem… used. Her anxiety was conveyed to Theo and he pulled her close to him. He didn't know what to say, so opted for shushing her and caressing her back in slow circles.

This motion had an adverse reaction. The more he comforted her, the closer her body got to his, the more blood flow swept from his brain to his cock, the more nervous he got.

He wanted her to understand why he was still inexperienced, but his erection was going to do what it always did and ruin everything.

Theo shifted his hips, but her hips followed, seeking the heat. He took calming breaths and thought of pistachios. He hated pistachios. "Why haven't you ever?" she mumbled. He felt her lips move on the sensitive skin of his neck, the warm puffs of breath from her mouth, the tiny lick from her tongue.

His hand slid down to cup her bottom. It was healed and slick from the oil he'd rubbed on it. Hermione pushed her bottom more firmly into his hand. "I see the way witches look at you, Theo. I'm sure any one of them would've been happy to …comply." Her voice was small and she was still talking into his neck. Pistachios weren't working, but because she was pushing her bum into his hand, there was space between the two.

Theo swallowed and decided to show her rather than have to articulate the situation. Closing his eyes, he guided her hand down his chest where her fingertips brushed against his nipples, dipped in the separate muscles of his abdomen, and carded the soft hair of his pubis.

Hermione and Theo did not break eye contact until her finger butted against the base of his very hard, very large penis. So large that Hermione's eyes shot downwards and she gasped. "Oh!"

Pulling her small hand away from Theo's, she tentatively grasped the large member. She wasn't able to wrap her hand around fully and wondered how it would fit inside of her. He was long, thick, and curved. She wondered if instead of thinking he was gifted, he found it a curse.

Turned on their sides, facing one another, his cock was too heavy to stand straight and rested in her palm. Hermione met his eyes and what he said next made her taking a calming breath. "I'm not fully hard yet, love."

The sympathy in his voice was palpable. He didn't want to hurt her, but that conflicted with the strong urge to bed her. Magical pull, desire to feel a woman, his wife, around him, the intimacy of a man and woman; whatever it was, he needed to be inside of her.

She began to stroke him slowly, wanting to see him.

Small moans of pleasure escaped his lips, rumbles from his chest vibrated against her cheek. His hips pumped slowly in rhythm of her hand and his hands gripped her hips tightly. "Hermione, please… I- I need…" He didn't know how to finish. He knew he was asking for her to take him in, to accept the pain of him stretching her. She would be sore, so sore that walking would be slow going and sitting would be taken in a ginger manner for more than a day.

Hermione lifted her face to place her lips on his, to swallow his breathy moans, to slide her tongue against his. Theo opened his mouth immediately, sucking her tongue into his mouth. She tasted of mint and something sweet… chocolate?

It was a slow, passionate kiss; her hands stroking his cock, her knees parting. She lifted one knee to his hip. His languid approach to the kiss was setting her thighs aflame. Her hands tangled in his hair and his hand clenching and unclenching against the fleshy tones of her arse, made the hundreds of butterflies currently swarming around in her stomach start synchronized swimming exercises.

Theo rolled them over and slid his cock against her core, loosening her hands from their grasp.

Gently, slowly, he used her essence to lubricate. Still kissing her, he pressed gently against her swollen clit causing a gush of warmth against his cock. It was difficult for him not to push into her. He'd waited so long and he was certain that he loved this witch. She was so like him.

His hands were still gripping her arse, pulling apart and pushing together. His fingers ever closer to her back entry. Finally, he shifted and pushed a finger into her rosebud. He pulled out and pushed back in.

Hermione sucked on his tongue at that moment, so intense was the feeling. She was so focused on the pleasure his finger was causing, and the slow suction of his tongue, that she parted her knees farther apart and lifted her pussy; it was as if it had a mind of its own.

Theo knew she was ready. He positioned the tip at her entry and pushed forward so slowly he thought he would die. The kissing stopped once he had the head of his cock in. He looked into her eyes and she nodded once, but she was taking fast breaths to stave off the discomfort.

More and more of him and her face became slightly pained. She was stretched and full and he wasn't half way in yet.

"Theo?" she asked gripping his shoulders. "Just a little more, love."

He decided she needed more pleasure. Pulling out, he traveled down her body, kissing everywhere. He stopped at the juncture of her thighs and kissed her puffy lips. Her clit was so swollen that it only took one slow lap of the flat of his tongue to have her body stiffening with pleasure. Before she stopped clenching from her climax, Theo slid inside of her, nearly fully seated.

They gasped in unison, Hermione because she couldn't breathe and Theo because he'd never felt something so heavenly.

Slowly, her body began to adjust. It was tightly fit, and she wasn't in pain any more, but every ridge, every wrinkle of skin, every twitch of his cock, she felt. "Move, Theo, just a little."

He pulled out a little and watched her face for pain, when there was none, he pushed inside again. After repeating the rhythm for a few minutes, her hips began to meet his. His pelvis rubbed against her clit, increasing her panting and sweating. She mewled his name and urged him on.

They couldn't go very fast because he was so big, but the pace set was unrelenting.

He pulled out and quickly found her empty pussy with his mouth again. He spread her legs and lifted her bum. Theo'd wanted to taste her everywhere. She was his wife; **_his_** wife.

Drawing an orgasm from her once more, he lifted himself and plunged into her wet path. It was still open for his girth. Her walls sucked him in immediately. He felt the tightening of his sac and the rhythms of his hips become erratic; he was going to cum.

"Hermione," he said to her closed eyes and parted lips.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" she yelled, pulling him down to a kiss.

She swallowed his moan a moment later when he stiffened and she actually felt his cock swell and then wet warmth coat the inside of her.

They stayed connected, holding each other, petting each other. "I don't want to disengage," Theo whispered.

Hermione giggled. "I feel like we're robots. _Disengage_." She giggled some more.

Theo liked the way it sounded, her giggle. "Did they hurt you?" he asked.

She nodded her head. "But I- I liked it… I think." Deciding that she did, indeed, like it, she nodded once more for confirmation.

Hermione's face turned up towards his lips. "So, wow."

This time Theo laughed.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 

Peaks and valleys. That was the routine her moods had adopted. She was angry, she was content. Angry. Content.

The fact was that she knew why she was content; happy even. She knew why they left her and she was even glad for it, because Theo and she connected. But the more she read, the angrier she got.

It didn't matter their intentions for Theo. What mattered was that they had left her! They left her when they should have healed and cared for her and they knew that! Looking back at their slumped postures and inability to make eye contact with her, she realized that they were intentionally fighting the urge to comfort her. That did not build trust with a relationship like theirs.

Hermione plopped down on her chair and winced. She was still a little sore, her bottom still pink and her sex still a bit worn out, but it was getting better. It had only been three days since she'd Apparated home from the bed she was sharing with Theo.

Confusion and humiliation had spurned her quick departure. She was a submissive and the majority of her husbands were Dominant. She had spent the better part of the second day understanding what that meant; in general and for her in particular. She was much too willful and independent for her to suddenly take a personality turn for the worst (in her opinion), and cow tow to every wizard with a wand. Thankfully, none of the text that she had read implied that submissive women were weak; only that submission was giving up control and could be freeing, and only when the submissive allowed. It certainly did not breach into her normal day to day life.

She still had a voice. She could still say no.

She wasn't a slave; she had a say in what occurred during their intimate times. D/s relationships were just that – relationships. It was about trust and control and pleasure. According to her vast research, Dominants were responsible for every action that occurred in their sessions.

Hermione had had no safe word. What if she hadn't been comfortable tied to a spanking post? What was she to say?

How did they know that she had reached immeasurable pleasure while they had fucked her and licked her and possessed her, all the while she had cried?

It wasn't right what they did even if they had the best of intentions.

_*** Calling***_

It had been a long three days and Lucius, Severus and the others were feeling her absence rather sharply. Marcus, Blaise, and Draco were still walking hunched and with a slight limp due to the consequences of their actions, or lack of action as the case may be, when Severus and Lucius found out what had happened. Charlie was let off easy. His pain had only lasted during the curse instead of days afterward.

_*** Calling***_

She missed them. All of them. But there were consequences to their actions, and she wasn't just thinking about the recent sexcapade. This was also about removing her choice.

Especially Lucius. He had been married already, had had a child - a male heir. He didn't need a young baby-making wife. He could have lived out the remainder of his life servicing the older witches. Instead, he brought them altogether and convinced them that this was the way to go. He rallied the wizards, encouraging them to act!

Still…

Hermione felt like she was the benefactor. No doubt about that actually. All of her husbands were smart, handsome men, who wanted to be with her, who smiled when she walked into a room. Yes, there would be rough times, and yes, growing pains were always present, but she felt like they could overcome anything.

Scoffing at her herself, she sighed. They needed to talk about what happened, as well as what the next steps were.

She wanted access to each of them and wondered if developing some type of schedule for them wouldn't be prudent. They each could have a week with her – three weeks out of the month with husbands and one week for herself.

_***Calling***_

"No."

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean 'no'?" she asked, irritated that none of her husbands seemed receptive to a rotating schedule. "What do you propose then?"

Marcus looked around. "We'll live together." This had all of her husbands nodding in agreement.

Hermione stood then. She had been sitting on the divan, with all of them standing or pacing around her. She felt like a little girl.

"You aren't my harem! It's- It's…" She didn't know the word she was looking for, but she wasn't sure that living together was the answer. Not that she was opposed, but - what would people say?

"You are our wife, Honey Pot. It's perfectly acceptable for a husband to want to live with his wife." Hermione looked at Charlie and stretched her lip. That was not the point.

Severus started quietly and looked at Hermione with unwavering eyes. "I won't be separated from you any longer. I didn't do _this_ , so that I could wonder what my wife and mate was up to at her house while I sat alone in mine!" His voice had risen towards the end and he was visible flustered.

Exhaling, Hermione sat back down and leaned into the pillowed support. Her muscles were tense and she was getting annoyed at their obstinacy and complete disregard of her purpose for Flooing over. She'd gathered them and threatened them with leaving if they made one untoward move. No one would be having sexual relations today! …At least not with her.

They had promptly hijacked the conversation, having the nerve to scold her for being away too long. She had tried to remind them that she had had to heal, but the words never made it out of her mouth. Now here she was mulling over living arrangements.

Resentment boiled over and in the blink of an eye furious magic shattered one of Lucius' Ming Vases and cracked a mirror. Like a wraith, Hermione's magic swirled around the room ruffling long drapes and flipping pages in a book. Her hair was sparking and frizzing, and she was glowing… again.

"Listen to me!" she hissed.

The wizards retreated to a safe distance, but watched with eager fascination. Their witch was beautiful.

Speaking slowly, Hermione conveyed her feelings on The Calling ritual and how selfish it was for them to just expect to quickly adapt to being a wife to seven husbands when she'd had no time to mentally or emotionally prepare and they'd had months. Blaise opened his mouth to say that technically they'd had only a day to accustom themselves to sharing one wife, but Hermione silenced him with a stiff finger pointed in his direction. Her gaze turned to Lucius. Their eyes locked and though none of the other wizards present could hear the mental exchange, Lucius' balled fists and stiff posture, coupled with Hermione's pursed lips and narrowed eyes spoke volumes about the tone of the conversation. In the end, Hermione's eyes softened, and Lucius sat gracefully in a chair, saying aloud, "you're right. I'm sorry, but I couldn't – _wouldn't_ accept…"

Hermione walked to Lucius and placed herself on his lap, hugging him to her. "I know, Lucius. No one wants to be unloved."

Hermione learned a lot about Lucius in that moment; that he was human and had human desires. His life was not a happy one. Though he had money, he wasn't raised with any tenderness. His father was a stern man, who believed that sparing the rod spoiled the child; Lucius was not spoiled.

When he got older, his father saw him as a threat and bullied him. Lucius often woke up in the elves quarters being healed by his nanny elf. He married Narcissa, who was sunshine in a bottle during school, but once alone, she was sullen and depressed. She had gone mad far earlier than Bellatrix. Lucius spent much of his time focusing on the Imperious, directing Narcissa's movement, so no one would know about her ailment. Lucius performed the ritual because he wanted love and to be happy.

Simply, a new beginning.

Closing her eyes, Hermione continued to comfort her husband, running her fingers through his hair and squeezing his shoulder. In response, Lucius was breathing her in, his nose nuzzling her neck and his large hand cupping her bottom, pulling her closer. Forgetting their audience, Hermione felt a warm tingling in her belly and tugged on his hair to pull his head back. Lucius shifted and pressed her downward while he lifted up seeking friction for his stiff cock. He wanted in. His mouth happily met hers open and wet. Their tongues slid and twisted around each other.

Theo clearing his throat brought them back to the moment. Dazed, she looked around and felt the heaviness in the room; the tension, the desire.

Huffing, she hopped off Lucius' lap and said, "I'm still very cross with you, Lucius, but I understand."

Finally focusing on the remaining husbands, Hermione discussed her concerns about being left by them.

They all stiffened in response to address. This was not something that people spoke about so casually and certainly not with an audience. However, she was a Gryffindor, a Muggle-born, and their wife. She was not one to stew on something or let it slide – subtleties were lost on her as well. And so they endured.

Hermione took a deep breath. This would not be easy, but it needed to be said in order for them to move forward without mounting tension and hard feelings. She felt they needed this as much as she did. Even if they didn't, she rationalized that they did and would have this discussion regardless.

Opening and closing her mouth a few times, she was at a loss as to how to start. "I didn't appreciate you leaving me in that …state." Looking around, her eyes found Marcus, Blaise and Draco. "I understand why you did it," she quickly added, "but I didn't appreciate it. I've been reading about – about this type of relationship." She wanted to say Dominant/submissive, but it wouldn't come out and she swore she saw Lucius and Severus smirk at her discomfort.

"You should know that I enjoyed every moment, but you can't leave me again, no matter the intention." Hermione's voice was soft, but not pleading. It was a statement - a warning.

"I am still acclimating to being a submissive and what that means for me, but I can tell you what it doesn't mean," she said, her voice stronger. "It doesn't mean that I will cater to your every whim. It doesn't mean that I will become weak and expect you to save me at every turn. It doesn't mean that I stop thinking for myself. And it most certainly doesn't mean that I will not argue with you. If I think you're wrong, you will get an argument from me. And sometimes even when you're right." She was standing now, with her arms crossed in front of her; belligerent, daring.

After a moment of meeting the heated looks from her husbands, she blushed and dropped her hands. She was slightly embarrassed that they found her this desirable. This hadn't ever happened to her. Swallowing, she nearly whispered, "I want a safe word."

Severus quirked an eyebrow. This was an unexpected, but pleasant, turn of events. She was accepting, which was good. Severus was a submissive as well, and he briefly wondered if he should share their relationship with their wife. It hadn't ever been an issue and he didn't want it to be one now.

He had always attempted to keep that part of his desires at bay, unless he went specifically to conduct himself in that manner; but often, it was too expensive and he'd resigned himself to reading BDSM.

Severus caught the sideways glance that Lucius sent his way. Obviously, Hermione and Severus could not use the same safe word, but it was on both Lucius' and Severus' mind. "Have you thought of a word, Hermione?" Lucius asked in the next second.

Hermione nodded. "Taffy."

She looked around. "Does this mean that every time we…?"

Draco shook his head. "No, just when the mood strikes, love."

"Which is every time we see you lately," Blaise mumbled, making Draco smile.

Hermione didn't hear him, and directed the conversation down another path. "I want a wedding." She paused to look around. "A traditional wizarding wedding."

"We are already bound, Hermione," Severus started, but stopped when his wife's head shook vehemently. "Don't care. I want a wedding."

Blaise smiled. "Of course, Tesoro. When? Would you like to have an Italian wedding?"

Hermione hadn't thought about that, but the idea appealed to her and as she began to smile and nod her head, Lucius stood and said, "Just a moment, Zabini." He turned to Hermione. "If a wedding abroad is what you're wanting, I have properties all over Eastern Europe."

Obviously, this is not what she had in mind – her husband's arguing over which location would be best. It was a power struggle and she wondered if it would always be this way. It dampened her spirits a bit. Theo was sensitive to her moods and walked to her. Hugging her, he whispered, "Where ever you want, whenever you want. Don't let these Neanderthals force you into something."

Caught up in the warmth of Theo, she slowly returned to the present to find Draco now engaged in a rather heated argument that they should be married somewhere new. Charlie had briefly suggested Romania with the dragons, but that had been immediately vetoed by all.

Hermione couldn't stand it anymore. "Taffy!" she yelled.

The raised voiced silenced abruptly and all attention was on Hermione. "I haven't decided where, but I would like to include each of your suggestions in some way. A year would give us enough time to plan-"

She was interrupted by Marcus of all people. "Nine months." Her other husbands didn't like that either as Charlie suggested the following quarter, which was traditional for pureblood magical society.

Blaise turned out to be the voice of reason. "Six months, Hermione. That is reasonable for us. Is it for you?"

Hermione thought she would melt from the smoldering expression Blaise wore, and she found herself nodding. "Six months," she repeated.

 


	15. What happened with Ronald?

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

Hermione sat in the St. Mungos library, worrying her bottom lip. She was supposed to be researching symptoms of a particularly nasty rash that manifested around an elderly wizard's bum, but she had been unable to concentrate. Her …husbands had put up very little fight regarding her desire to have a wedding. She found that interesting. In fact, they'd each offered their opinions on location and seemed receptive to participating in the planning. Lucius had told her that in wizarding tradition, it was the groom's family who paid for the wedding, so it was expected that the groom played a role other than showing up in dress robes at the binding ceremony. Hermione had then informed him that in Muggle ceremonies, it was traditionally the bride's family who paid for everything but the rehearsal dinner. Lucius and Charlie had looked appropriately appalled at making the bride responsible for anything other than approving the overall design and color scheme. Hermione went on to explain that many grooms are not interested in planning or any of the decision making portions, which had her giggling at their gasps of indignation.

Lucius then declared he would be present and accountable for each decision to which Hermione begged off asserting herself as 'final decision maker'. She wanted them involved, but not too involved. It was her wedding after all.

Lucius had harrumphed, Charlie had smirked, but each had conceded, and now she was left wishing she had girlfriends to share this with and to offer honest opinions on her options.

Hermione was startled out of her reverie when one of husbands came barreling, quite out of character, around the corner. "Hermione! There you are! I've been looking all over creation for you!" Blaise cried.

Hermione shut the book and stood abruptly. "What's happened?" she said, quickly meeting him halfway. Her instant dread and worry surprised her. She hoped that none of her husbands were hurt.

Blaise immediatly returned to the graceful, fluid and almost feline husband she was used to. He spoke slowly, in that calming, irritating, voice he used just for her. "I've just come from the Emergency Center (EC). There's been an accident, but he's fine… perhaps a bit beat up, but fine."

At this point, he was talking to her back because Hermione was now rushing to the EC.

He'd failed to mention that it wasn't one of her husbands who were injured, but instead, someone from her past. He'd pictured the conversation much differently than what had actually occurred and was now mentally kicking himself for his rather rushed delivery.

He should have began with the 'who' and not the 'what'.

Jogging after her, as she was quite a bit faster than she looked, he lamented on her currently nonexistent relationship with The Weasel and Potter. He didn't know what had happened between them, but when Draco had asked her how she wanted to tell the deluded duo, she set his hair aflame. Neither man had ever had the pleasure of someone so feisty in their bed. It just confirmed to Blaise, and to Draco, he suspected, that they'd all made the right decision in Calling a wife, and that the Fates knew exactly what they were doing in granting them one wife to share – specifically this wife to share.

Blaise came to a hasty halt. He'd lost sight of her and for a split second; he panicked, but then remembered he knew where she was going. He retraced his steps at a quick jog and made a sharp left. Up the stairs two at a time, he reached the fourth floor and threw open the door just in time to see the bright spark of curses being thrown. He took the short hallway at a run; his witch's shrill voice berating the victim of her temper.

Thinking quickly, Blaise cast " _Protego!_ " over Ronald Weasley to keep him from _serious_ harm, though, the way that the sobbing redhead was cupping between his legs, the serious damage had already been done.

When Hermione's curse dissolved into a shield she didn't conjure, she stopped her tirade and looked around with eyes ablaze.

Blaise quickly holstered his wand with a twirl of his fingers, and backed up a step. "Hermione, we aren't allowed to kill our patients." This admonishment was delivered with soft eyes filled with a twinkle of proud humor. It made Hermione smile at her husband before she fully faced him and nodded. Sighing and putting a sweet smile in place, she walked to him and hugged him.

He opened his arms and hugged her back, but his smile fell the instant that her words penetrated the wedded bliss. "I don't like your tone, dear husband, but we can discuss it later." Hermione pulled away, still wearing that sweet smile and focused her attentions back on her childhood friend.

**_***Calling*** Five minutes prior_ **

Hermione took the Portkey tunnel up to the EC. She knew that Blaise was hot on her heels, but she couldn't wait for him. She was sick with concern. She stumbled out of the tunnel and ran down the corridor to the bay. Skidding to a halt, she looked frantically around for any one of her husbands. She heard huffing then a grumble and turned to find herself staring at a disgruntled Weasley. Hermione's immediate response to seeing him was to clench her jaw and grind her teeth. She couldn't speak and was mildly ashamed that even after all this time she was still very cross with him. As she turned to walk away, thinking of ways to teach Blaise how to frame his statements to her, Ronald spoke. "I just want some pain potion. Why is this hard? Pain. Potion!"

Hermione closed her eyes quickly then opened them. "What hurts, Ronald?"

He made an exaggerated hand motion towards his foot and his expression asked her if she were blind.

She was not blind, in fact and had noted that his middle toe was slightly swollen and a little pink. It looked like an in-grown toenail, but that was not a reason to hand out potions for pain; it could be remedied by a simple spell and looked like it had been. So why was he here? A curious look back to him had him swearing and shaking his head.

"You never just helped. Always asking questions, never just trusting me." He looked hurt and then angry, and it only served to fuel Hermione's anger. Through a stiff jaw and clenched teeth, she responded, "I trusted you until you betrayed my trust, Ronald. Did your Healer release you?"

Ron sat up then and leaned forward. "I want some pain potion, you mental bint!"

Hermione didn't realize when exactly she had bared her wand, but it was in her hand, ready. The curse that left her lips was also a surprise. It just came tumbling out with all the anger and rage she felt towards him. She cursed him again, unable to stop herself, but the second curse didn't hit its mark. Someone had protected Ron; Blaise.

***Calling***

"She cursed me! She cursed me! Get an Auror! I'm afraid for my safety!"

The hall was chaos; red lights were blinking, the intercom was calling, in a feminine mechanical voice: Code Blue. Code Blue.

Any magic performed other than the healing color of purple sounded alarms. Healers and hospital security came running, looking for danger.

When all they found was Blaise, Hermione, Ron and his Mediwitch, they started asking questions, but no one could concentrate with Ron's shouting. A quickly cast Healing Stunner by the Mediwitch quieted the noise. The security wizard looked at her afterwards and she just shrugged.

Theo arrived just as the questions were awaiting the answers. He quirked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, just stood next to Blaise and behind Hermione. His gaze shifted briefly to the Weasel, who was unnaturally still. Blaise must have read the expression and leaned over to whisper, "the Mediwitch stunned him." Blaise was clearly making a valiant attempt to keep from chuckling.

The security guard cleared his throat. "Healer Granger, what happened exactly?"

"I-I couldn't," she sighed, "I don't know. I cursed him. He'll be fine …in a while. I only removed – erm… His… penis." Upon a gasp from all of the wizards present, she rushed on, "there was no pain! It is a modified healing charm to remove warts. I just, you know, tweaked it a bit. It'll grow back!"

There was really nothing to say after that. Hermione felt terribly guilty about not feeling guilty, and they were all fairly certain, after Healer Granger's assurances, that Ron's manly bits would indeed grow back… eventually.

Blaise and Theo shifted balance a few times each making a mental note to tread lightly where their wife was concerned.

A cord struck Theo, and he wondered if there wasn't some part of her that wanted to prove how not submissive she was out of the bedroom. He tilted his head; perhaps she was what they called a switch; someone who was both submissive and dominant at times.

_***Calling***_

"They fired me!" Hermione cried. She was sitting in the leather chair by the fire with her husbands sitting in various places around the den.

Severus cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but Lucius shook his head as subtly as humanly possible. It was effective in quelling Severus' urge to explain in a rather blunt manner that she deserved to be fired.

Hermione's head turned sharply to face Blaise. "You said he was a bit beat up! He looked fine to me!" She was almost accusing him of lying to her and that seeing Ronald without bruises was a disappointment – it was, but it was a rather callously blunt thing to think and say even for a Gryffindor.

Blaise cleared his throat and pushed off the wall where he was leaning. "He was, Hermione. His ribs were bruised and his ankle was sprained. It just so happened that his Mediwitch didn't want his toe to get infected, so she removed the ingrown nail."

Nodding, Hermione slumped in her chair and gulped the last bit of her drink. "He's a cad," she said, referring to Ron.

Draco happily nodded in agreement, but didn't speak.

"I always forgave him his terrible decision making skills. I made an honest effort to understand where he was coming from; his insecurities, his accusations, his stupid closed-minded shite!" Lucius quirked a brow when her hair crackled with angry magic.

Severus wanted badly to share his low opinion of the youngest Weasley boy, but once again Lucius quelled the urge with a quick glare.

Theo missed the silent exchanges between the elder co-husbands and stepped forward. "Why do you even bother feeling anything for the idiot?" Theo also missed the slight stiffening of her posture, so he continued his Ron bashing. "No manners, never treated you like a lady. He was always-"

"I know, Theo! I don't need a rundown of Ronald's and my dynamic during and post Hogwarts; I was there! I was there each and every time he called me mental. I was there each and every time he talked Harry out of my recommendation. I was there when he demanded that I…" Her breath hitched and she swallowed down the lump in her throat.

"Hermione, what did he demand?" Charlie asked, now concerned and on edge.

Marcus frowned and rose to pour her another drink; she clearly needed another.

Hermione took the proffered glass of firewhisky. Marcus took her small trembling hand in his larger ones and kneeled at her feet. Charcoal eyes met the soft cinnamon of hers. "What did he demand, princess?"

Her fingers closed around his in a tight grip. Focusing on him, she answered. "My virginity."

They could have heard a pin drop as the mood shifted from active listening to actively plotting the slow, painful demise of one Ronald Weasley.

As Marcus' previously emotive eyes hardened, Hermione swiftly explained. "We were on a date; our first real date after the war. He'd had a few drinks, and I'd had one too. It was a lovely summer night; we had Apparated back the Burrow. We were stargazing and talking. The mood turned romantic. It wasn't his fault. We were kissing," she was shaking her head and looking at Marcus' and her intertwined hands, "and it got heavy, and I …just couldn't do it. I didn't _want_ to do it. He didn't want to take no for an answer. He thought it was just first time jitters."

"You weren't ready," Charlie supplied.

Hermione countered. "I was ready! I didn't want my first time to be with him; and he knew it."

Severus could no longer remain quiet. "Did he… take no for an answer?"

Hermione avoided the question. "He asked me why I'd led him on. He reminded me how I had wanted him our last years at Hogwarts. He couldn't understand why I'd let it go so far. I didn't have any answers for him." The tears that had pooled in her eyes spilled down her cheeks in crooked paths. She finally looked up into the grey gaze of Lucius' keen sight.

Gritting her teeth and drying her eyes, she removed her hand from Marcus' and took a drink. "Harry caught me crying afterwards. I told him everything. I was angry and hurt and so ashamed… One thing about Harry; he's loyal to a fault. He became very cross with me for feeling the way I did. Ron could do no wrong in his eyes.

"I stayed up all night thinking about what happened and the type of woman I wanted to be. The next morning, I started preparations for Healer training. I kept in touch for a while, but received no response. When I got back from University, they confronted me at dinner the first night back. That was the end of our dialogue. I'm certain Ron still has no idea of any wrongdoing that night."

"I remember that night," Charlie said. "Mum said it was just a lover's quarrel."

Hermione felt very tired of a sudden. "I'm going to bed," she said after a few moments of silence.

When she left, the wizards remained quiet until Charlie spoke. "He's like a dog. You have to punish him at the time of the crime, not years after. He doesn't know that he hurt her." This was the first time in a long time that he'd felt fear. These were not forgiving men. If they got his youngest brother alone, they would permanently incapacitate him.

Lucius was not ready to comment, and decided instead to check on his wife. He …needed her; needed to comfort her.

He walked out, and up the stairs to her room.

She was sleeping; so small in the large bed. She had recently showered. Lucius slipped off his robes and crawled into bed beside her. "Lucius," she whispered.

Pulling her into his body, he felt at peace. His magic hummed with pleasure as it mixed with hers. Lucius closed his eyes and together they slept.

 


End file.
